Mulan's Secret
by AshLandWriter
Summary: This ruff draft starts where first movie ended. Some people won't like this because they prefer the feminist approach to Mulan, but the movie was set up so perfectly that I wanted to write what would happen had they taken the transgender approach. Warning—This fanfic contains controversial topics: LGBTQ characters, eating disorders/self harm, alcoholism, depression and more.
1. Dinner

**About this Fic:**

1) This fanfiction takes place in ancient China. Any discrimination against women, blonds, or any other group is only due to the character's perception and is not at all because I condone that kind of behavior, because I don't.

2) I already warned about the controversial topics this fic will cover in the summery. Therefore, I won't be posting warnings per chapter. However, when a character is introduced I may give a warning about what they may suffer from. Warning for Mulan/Ping character: suffers from gender dysphoria and uses an eating disorder as a coping mechanism to "fix" things. Consequential disorders stemming or resulting from those may be anxiety and/or depression. Apparently writing this the first time, the person I had reading it saw her as "bratty" because of her behavior. However, it's either that I wasn't displaying the anxiety enough or correctly (I thought I did) or the person simply didn't understand that twisting sleeves of a shirt was an anxious behavior.

3)This fanfiction has way more dream sequences than my Harry Potter one. This is just a good way to get inside the mind of a character and see their deepest wishes and fears. I may not display the effects of the eating disorder as well as I did in the Harry Potter one, just because I want Mulan to at least live through this first fic and technology isn't exactly a thing in ancient times, but I personally think the dream sequences make up for it by showing how much of an impact these things are psychologically. By the way, the dream sequences are all connected as if it's its own little story (or at least Mulan's are), so that should be interesting. Sorry for those who hate dream sequences. I know some people only see it as a waste of time, but I hope you can tolerate it enough to give this fanfiction a chance. If you find you're unable to tolerate how many dreams there are, then politely comment in the response section if you feel the need to, but I'd prefer not to have people complain and yell about something I gave plenty of fair warning to.

\- I didn't realize just how much editing I'd be doing for this. When I started to reread it I kind of thought it was lame, but that might be because I actually used exposition which I typically don't do. I changed some scenes a little, either because it seemed like unnecessary conflict, that the character shouldn't be asking a question they don't have the knowledge to ask, or because it was a little too dramatic. For those who've read the previous version, please let me know if you like the changes. Everyone else, welcome! I'm glad you could make it.

\- The bolded date is for author use only, but I figured I'd give it to the readers for now as well. If you like having the dates let me know and I'll keep them. If you think the dates are too specific or don't align quite right with the story, let me know and then I will remove the dates as I initially planned. Thank you.

Have a wonderful day/night.

* * *

 **June 26th (Evening of 1st Movie's Last Day)**

Shang takes a moment to look around the warm-colored dining-room. It's not exactly what he expected. In fact, the house itself isn't quite what he'd expected. There's a certain privilege that comes with having a position that allows you access to government land, and as Fa Zhou is one of the few magistrates of this village, he just expected more. It's fine and cozy he supposes, better than most houses, he knows, but still. Compared to his home this is just a little too modest. There's a gruff voice, "You are allowed to sit, you know."

Shang nods before setting himself in the empty chair between Mulan and her grandmother at the bamboo table, trying to respectfully avoid eye contact with one of the best soldiers in recent history, "Thank you, sir. May I just say, it's an honor to meet you. You're a legend."

Fa Zhou only barely smiles, "It's been a while since I've heard that."

Wind chimes ring as they serve themselves from the centralized dumpling dish, and it's now that Shang notices the magistrate staring him down. "I hope I didn't say anything to offend you."

"You do not offend me," the legend looks down on him in suspicion. "You concern me." The wind blows harder, and the chimes sing louder. "How do you know my daughter?"

Shang glances at Mulan for a moment before answering, "I was her captain in the army." He lowers his head, "Actually. Due to unfortunate circumstances, I've been promoted to General."

Fa Zhou picks up his chopsticks, "I'm sorry to hear that. Your father was a great man."

"You knew my father?" Shang questions with surprise.

"You forget that legends were once trained, and your father and I, we trained together. I wouldn't be half the legend I am, if not for him." There's a few looks exchanged. "You must be here for a reason. What brings you?"

Mulan sees her mother's worry, "Surely, it's not to sentence me, not after the emperor honored me with his crest and thanked me for my service."

"That's the thing," Shang responds unsurely. "The emperor told me to find you."

"The emperor what?" Fa Zhou chokes, as he swallows a gulp of cool air. As he coughs, Mulan hurries to refill his teacup before handing it to him.

Fa Li continues his concern, "What would the emperor want with Mulan?"

Shang tries to give a reassuring look as Fa Zhou's cough subsides, "It's nothing to worry about." Shang puts a hand to his chin, wondering briefly if there should be worry, but he decides against it. "He just wanted me to let Mulan know how he's going to represent her."

"Represent her?" Fa Li's voice falters with unease.

"As the hero of China." He looks at Mulan and smiles, "She saved China almost single-handedly." When she barely manages a smile he turns to her father. "The emperor wants her efforts to be recognized."

He comments, "But she's a woman." and then Shang hears a silent huff come from Mulan, as if she's about to cry or hit something. "Did she really do so much that the emperor is willing to have a woman as the symbol of the Chinese army?"

"I didn't do that much." Mulan stabs the chopsticks into a dumpling as she remembers the avalanche that nearly caused the death of Shang and half a dozen other soldiers, and the stab wound that revealed her as a woman and almost got her executed. _Then of course, I also destroyed the emperor's palace._

Shang gives Mulan a shocked look, "You took out the entire Hun army with one cannon, and even after you were injured you took down Shan Yu and saved the emperor." His shock turns into disbelief, "Are you saying that was nothing?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying." Mulan looks up to see his stunned expression.

"You were injured?"

Mulan turns to her worried father, "It's nothing Baba. Just a cut on my stomach."

He gives her an intense look, "Are you sure?"

She nods, "Don't worry. It's nothing."

Her father takes a relaxing breath, "Alright." His eyes shift to Shang, "So, the emperor. He's representing Mulan?"

"Well, kind of." He sees paused, confused faces. "He wants to represent Ping."

"Ping?" Only Mulan's grandmother didn't ask who Ping was, a knowledgeable smile creeping onto her face.

"Ping was my name when I presented as a man." Whatever smile was left on Mulan's face disappears when her mother shakes her head and continues to eat.

"Ping's a good name." Shang is somewhat surprised by Fa Zhou's reaction. "Dried duckweed does repel mosquitoes. It's very useful." He smiles at Mulan, "I am glad the name brought some good to you." He finishes the dumpling, before Shang can speak through his confusion.

"At the end of the harvest the emperor would like to throw a festival in Ping's honor, during which Mulan would have to share her stories, answer questions—" Shang smiles, "And, of course, show off her fighting skills." He turns to a somewhat confused Mulan. "That's what the guys would expect at least. What the emperor will want to do is introduce you as the war hero that saved china, and maybe even give you a metal to wear." He sees Mulan's 'seriously' look. "Hey, they have to recognize you somehow." He observes the differences between the woman in front of him and the man he once knew. "Overall, you'd just be Ping again." Mulan starts a smile as he asks, "Do you think you can handle that?"

Mulan completes the smile with a soft, short laugh. "Yeah. I think I can handle that."

Shang gives her a somewhat serious expression, "Are you sure?"

She strengthens her words, "Yes, sir, General." and laughs. Mulan looks over at her grinning father, but her smile drops when she sees her discontent mother.

Shang maintains a smile as he turns to her family, "Are you all okay with this? I know that she would have to dress up as a man again, but it is the emperor's wishes."

Mulan's father puts down his chopsticks, "She has dressed as a man for three years now. I do not see how one more night can hurt."

"No," Fa Li comments sternly, and everyone's expressions fall.

Fa Zhou softly responds, "Li. This is the emperor we're talking about. We can't just say no."

"I can't believe you're encouraging this," she exasperates.

"Mama. Please—" Mulan starts.

"No," Li glares at her in near disbelief. "You've had your fun. This is over."

"I wouldn't exactly call war fun," Shang responds timidly, a little confused.

Fa Li continues to her daughter, tears threatening to escape, "You're home now. It's about time that you've settled down and had a normal life. If you want to—" She softly breathes, "cross-dress" so that the company won't be able to hear. "Then you can do it in your own free time in private behind our backs like you've always done. You don't need to display it to the whole country."

Mulan is stunned into quiet, before her father speaks for her, "I'm sure that's not her intention." Fa Li finishes her tea tensely. "And if it's what the emperor wants, we're in no position to say no."

Fa Li shuts her eyes for a moment, "I understand." before she opens them again. "Please, excuse me. I've got some knitting I need to finish."

Mulan watches as her mother elegantly leaves the room, and the tense silence is broken when Shang asks, "What just happened?"

Mulan looks at him hopefully, "You didn't hear her?"

"She spoke under her breath a little," Shang explains.

Mulan sighs in relief, "It's been a long evening." She looks past Shang. "Grandmother, may you show General Li Shang to a spare bedroom?" She nods and stands up.

As they exit the room Mulan sees Shang turn his head and open his mouth as if he's about to speak, only to have him stop, turn his head back around, and move past the doorframe. Mulan looks down at the table, "Well, at least Mama was able to finish dinner."

Fa Zhou looks over his child in sympathy, "Don't pay heed to what your mother said." Mulan looks up at him with a frustrated expression and sad eyes, "She's just worried." but he doesn't appear to acknowledge it and just takes another sip of tea. "If you don't marry before I join our ancestors, then we will lose the farm and you, her, and my mother will have no place to stay."

Mulan watches the tea be drunk as if they were only talking about the weather, and no matter how out of place it seems she lets it continue. _His health is very important right now, even more so since I am neither married nor a son._ "I just wish she could understand how I feel."

Her father sets down his empty teacup and shakes as he struggles to refill it, "I am sure on some level she does, but you have to realize things have been hard for her as well." He sets down the empty tea-kettle. "While you were away she had to bring in the harvest alone. She had to do your chores, and all the while she could never be sure if you were alive or—" He sees Mulan look past the doorway before turning her head down. "Don't let what she said bother you so." He takes another sip of tea as he briefly touches her shoulder with the tips of his fingers. "I know it must be hard to hear those things, but—" He sees Mulan face him with a single tear rolling down her cheek.

"But it's true."

"No. It's not." He sets the cup down and is about to wipe the tear from her face, but she speaks before he can.

"Yes. It is. I'm sure you remember how it was." She picks the plates up one-by one, "I was never normal. I never lived a normal life." and scrapes them clean over the wastebasket. "And she was never able to make me, even when I tried." She plugs up the sink hole and pours the bucket of water into it, before she begins to wash the dishes. "All I will ever be is a crossdresser."

Fa Zhou finishes his tea. "You are not a crossdresser."

Mulan turns around, "What exactly would you call it then?" When he doesn't answer Mulan turns back to the sink and lists the abnormal behaviors, "I've been binding my chest since I was thirteen. As a child I always had my hair short, and when I became older and Mama forbade me to I ended up cutting it with a sword when I found myself alone." She gatherings up enough courage to look at him, needing to see his face, "I dressed as a man and joined the army. What exactly would you call that?"

Her father takes a hearty breath before answering, "That was just you being you."

Mulan bends her head down, "I dishonor us." and turns back once again to clean the dishes.

"Don't say that, my child. You are a great honor." Mulan stays silent. "You saved China. You saved the emperor. You have honored us."

"That's man's work," Mulan disputes. "Even the emperor thinks so. He's celebrating the honor of Fa Ping, not Fa Mulan."

"The emperor is doing what he believes to be socially acceptable. That does not mean you do not have honor. You have great honor."

"Maybe I should start doing what's socially acceptable," Mulan mumbles.

Fa Zhou stares at his empty cup in thought, "If you'd done that, then China may still be in shambles." Mulan stills. "You are a great soldier, and I am glad you have found something you are good at." She turns around wearing a slight smile. "Your duty, your place, is wherever you think it should be," he shakes his head in regret, "and I am sorry it took a war for me to realize that."

"Thank you, Baba."

Her father stands and wears a strained smile, "Just remember you have great honor."

"Yes, Baba."

He takes a noticeable breath, "I don't think I need to tell you that you still need to get married, no matter how hard being a bride is for you."

Her smile begins to fade, but she tenses to keep it. "Yes, Baba."

"If people find out or even suspect I have no son and if I'm gone, then you will lose the farm if unmarried. I want that to be prevented for you, your mother, and my mother's sake."

Mulan nods with a gulp, "Yes, Baba."

"I hope you understand. I want you happy. I do, but—" He takes a step closer, "Things don't always work out the way we want." but Mulan moves back as well. "I only want what is best for you."

"Yes, Baba."

Her father begins to leave the room, "I pray you get some sleep." He takes a final look at her tortured expression, "I know how hard it is to rest after war."

When her father leaves Mulan turns back to the sink and silently weeps, as she desperately cleans the dishes in despair. _I have tried so hard to be a bride and the matchmaker failed me before I could say 'cup of tea'. I'd never make it as a bride... I just wish I could be Ping again. War's the only thing I'm good at._


	2. The Secret

**June 27** **th** **(Early Morning, Day 2)**

Mulan wakes up to the sound of crickets. _Actually, it's one cricket._ She opens her eyes and right in front of her is a small, red dragon. "Mushu. What are you—"

"Sorry, Ping, but Cri Kee and I just couldn't wait to tell you the great news!"

Mulan sits straight up in shock. "Ping?" She pats over her body. _Broader— no— stronger arms. And a flat chest?_ Mulan stands up, sees herself wearing red robes, and touches the metal that's around her neck. "This has to be a dream."

She rushes to the other end of the room and Mushu follows. "This is no dream, boy."

Mulan sees herself, his self in the mirror. _It's almost exactly as I remember, except stronger, taller._ She turns to the side. _Flatter._

Mushu climbs up to Ping's shoulder, "Come on, now, boy. Ask me what the big surprise is."

Ping questions, "What is it?" He puts his hand up to his throat. _My voice is deeper too. Oh, my ancestors, what have you done?_

Mushu begins to whisper, "The people are so pleased with you." but his excitement gets the better of him. "They are going to present a giant statue of you! Right in the center of the village!"

Ping growls, "Ow. Mushu."

Mushu backs away and a sad tone escapes him, "Hey, can't a dragon be excited?"

Ping puts a hand up to his head, "There's a difference between excited and yelling, especially this early."

Mushu puts a claw up, "What do you mean early, boy? You're late."

"Huh, what? But you just said—"

"I know what I said. Just forget it. The sun's up, and your father wants you in the dining room."

"My father?"

Mushu gives a look, "No. Your girlfriend. Yes, your father! Now, come on. Walk out of here and into the dining room like a man." Mushu whispers into Ping's ear, "We don't want anyone to find out your little secret now, do we?"

"Wait. You know?"

"Of course I know. What did you think? That I was born yesterday?"

Mushu laughs, but Ping still doesn't understand. "If you knew, then why didn't you—"

"Good morning, my son."

Ping hadn't realized it, but he has already walked into the dining room. "Ah, good morning." _Baba? Father?_ "How are you today?"

"Good. Very good. Have a seat." Ping sits where his father's chopsticks motion him to. "Would you like a dumpling?"

"Dumplings for breakfast?"

"Yes. Would you like some?"

Ping hesitates, "Ah, no. Thank you." He turns to the dragon hiding in the corner. "I'm not very hungry." He sees suspicion on his father's face.

"Now, that's nonsense. A growing man has to eat. Take one." Fa Zhou drops the dumpling into his son's big hands.

"Ah. Thank you, sir."

"I am your father, not your commanding officer. Address me as such."

"Sorry, Father." Ping nibbles on the dumpling. "Where's Mother?"

Fa Zhou effortlessly pours tea into Ping's cup. "She is in the fields."

He turns around and begins to stand, "I should help."

Fa Zhou motions for him to sit, "You don't need to help. We have servants, and she is only out there to give orders."

"Why?" Ping sits back down.

"It makes her feel good about herself, and she has already done her household chores."

 _Not what I meant, but okay._ "What should I do?"

"Eat the dumpling and drink the tea." Ping takes a sip before nibbling on the dumpling again. "Then, before you leave, I would like to give you a sparring lesson if that's alright." Ping widens his eyes in surprise before looking around for his father's usual cane, but it's nowhere in sight. "What? Do you think that I can't take you?"

Ping shakes his head, "I didn't say that."

Fa Zhou crosses his arms, "Then you won't mind sparring with me. Come on, weakling." He stands and Ping follows, uncomfortable, rubbing his arm.

Mushu runs up Ping's back and whispers in his ear, "Come on now. Don't be a wimp. You need to prove to your father you are the man he thinks you are."

Ping whispers back, "I don't think I can do this."

His father comments, "Of course, you can. You defeated Shan Yu. What am I in comparison but a cup of tea?"

Ping remembers Mushu exploding Shan Yu with the fireworks. _All I did was pin him to the roof._ He looks at Mushu, "Well, I had some help."

"In any case, you have been honored as the hero of China." Ping sees a smirk on his father's face as they turn into the last hall. "Sparring me should only keep you on your toes."

Ping still can't believe it. _Hero of China?_ "I didn't do that much." His father turns around at the training room doorframe. "I don't understand why I, specifically, am being awarded." Ping recalls the dozens of men they had started with, and how only about half a dozen were left by the time they had reached the Imperial City. "There were other soldiers."

His father motions for him to enter the room, "All truths reveal themselves with time, my son."

 _That's what I'm afraid of._ Ping enters the room and is surprised to see two wardrobes, instead of the usual one, and the many weapons on the side. "This is—" _Different._

Fa Zhou walks in, "General Li Shang has brought over some weapons for your private lessons."

"Shang?" Ping turns around in confusion. "He's still in the village?"

Fa Zhou begins to walk up to his son, "I find it curious that you are on a first-name basis with your commanding officer."

Ping slightly turns his head and rubs his neck, "I was the top in class." He clenches his teeth in a smile, "I guess it just became convenient to shorten our names when addressing each other."

Ping's father isn't impressed, "Hmm." He tilts his head to the wardrobes. "Put your armor on."

"My armor?" Ping turns around to see the two wardrobes. "What about you?"

His father walks to the one on the right. "Do not worry. I will wear armor as well."

Ping doesn't move. _I have my own armor?_

"Come on. Put in on. We don't want any accidents."

Ping walks up to the left of his father, and they exchange a glance before he opens the wardrobe. Ping pauses for a moment as he examines the expensive armor. _How can we afford this? And the servants?_ Ping looks over at his very recent healthy father. _Is he working more again?_

Mushu berates him, "Come on, boy. Your father is nearly done putting his armor on." He yells, "Now, put on yours."

Ping hurries to put on the polished armor, as his father comments, "How is guardianship treating you, Mushu? Good, I trust."

Fa Zhou finishes putting on his armor and turns to a small dragon on the floor, but before Mushu can say a word Ping questions with shock, "You know each other?"

"Of course, we do. I'm not blind, you know." Mushu squirms. "The first time I saw him I thought he was a lizard. I was rather surprised when I was about to throw him out into the rain and he talked, saying he was your guardian dragon."

Ping gives Mushu a look, and Mushu can only say, "Yeaahh. That was my mistake."

As Ping finishes putting on the armor, his father asks again, "So, how is guardianship, Mushu?"

Mushu innocently answers, "Ah... It's good. I'm getting a lot of respect from the ancestors."

"Hmm. Is that right?" Mushu only nods. "So, what does my son do in his spare time?"

Ping turns around, armor fully equipped. "Father!"

"What? It is a reasonable question, is it not?" Before Ping can comment his father asks once again, "What does he do, Mushu?"

Mushu stammers, "Well, ah, he." He laughs in fear. "Ping doesn't do anything he shouldn't be doing." He ends the stammering with a giant, fake smile.

Fa Zhou comments, "Right." before pulling the sword from his belt and pointing the blade at his son. He sees fear within Ping's eyes. "Fight back. Defend yourself."

Ping responds with stress, "I thought this was just a lesson."

His father pulls the sword back but keeps it high. "The best lessons are learned during combat."

When his son pulls out his own sword Fa Zhou thrusts his through the air. Ping defends himself, but within three blows he's on the floor in shock. "I lost."

"Get back up. Your opponent will never wait. If you are on the ground he will finish you off." Ping stands up, remembering how after firing the cannon he just sat in awe as he saw the avalanche start and how while he sat there in the snow stupid Shan Yu stabbed him. Ping reaches for his lower abdomen, expecting pain, but there is none, so he continues the motion by swinging the sword at his unimpressed father.

"This is how you fight." His father laughs. "You fight like a girl." Ping sits on the floor in hopelessness after his seventh loss. "General Li Shang must not be teaching you right."

Ping stands up but does not fight, and instead he moves back to the wardrobe. "He teaches well." Ping shifts his head back to his father, "It's just not the way you do."

"So, you are quitting." Fa Zhou watches as his son takes off the armor.

"No. I'm just beat, besides I have to go into town." He turns around to face his father, "Something about a statue presentation?"

Mushu climbs up Ping's leg to his shoulder, "Actually, the statue isn't being shown 'til tonight."

"Then why am I going to the village so early?" He looks from Mushu to his father.

Fa Zhou answers, "We have orders placed for barley and rice. You need to deliver."

"Oh." Ping moves past his father in slight disappointment. _Have I really been reduced to delivering rice and grain?_ He stops at the doorway and turns around, not sure of how to phrase his question. "Uh, do I take the horse?"

Mushu looks at Ping with confused hate, as his father questions, "What were you expecting to ride? The shoulder carriage?" Mushu cries out with laughter but stops when it becomes apparent that Fa Zhou isn't joking.

Ping answers with immediate fear, "I, uh, no. Just, I— No." He continues with courage and strength, "I just wanted to know if I could take the horse."

The disappointment on his father's face is eminent, but he comments in a relieved tone, "Yes. You may ride the horse to the village."

* * *

After Ping reaches the village and delivers the food he heads to the center. Mushu comments from behind his back, "I don't see why you bother. I already told you it won't be there."

"Well, I don't see why you won't hide. I already told you someone will see."

"Pff, no one will see me. Stop that poppycock, boy, and just keep walking." Ping sees the center platform and frowns when his statue isn't there. "See that. I told you so. Ah, no."

Ping looks at the startled dragon on his shoulder, "What is it?"

"Eh, ah, nothing. It's nothing. Come on, now. Let's get you and Bessy home."

The horse snorts, and Ping sees Mushu become anxious. "Come on, Mushu. What's going on?"

"Nothing. Nothing. I just want to get you home before—"

"Shang." Ping sees him walking towards them with his horse's reins in hand.

Mushu runs his claws down his face, "Before he shows up."

Mushu scurries down his back as Ping is about to jump into a hug, but Shang stops him midway. "Not here. We're in public."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Ping apologizes as Shang looks around.

"It's fine. I don't think anyone saw." He smiles.

Ping hears Mushu mumble, "I saw." but keeps his attention on Shang.

He smiles back, "How have you been?"

"You mean since we talked last night?" Shang laughs and Ping blushes. "I've been fine. How have you been?"

"Oh, I'm fine. I just have this annoying dragon that won't get off my back."

Shang laughs, "That bad, huh?"

"You don't even know." Mushu grumbles. "I was actually about to ride back to the farm if you'd like to join me."

"I'd love to."

As they begin walking out of the village, Mushu jumps into the horse's pack with Cri Kee, "Man, this boy's going to get me into trouble." The cricket only chirps, but Mushu is rather annoyed by its remark and doesn't say another word.

After they ride back to the farm's stable Shang helps Ping down from his horse and they hold hands as they leave the building, but they are greeted at the doorway by Fa Zhou. He looks over the two men carefully and notices the sudden shifting of the hands before addressing, "General Li Shang."

"Yes, sir."

Fa Zhou looks from his son to the General, "What are you here for?"

"I— I'm here to give Ping a sparring lesson, sir."

"You gave him one yesterday." Fa Zhou's face becomes slightly stern. "Are these lessons of yours becoming a daily occurrence, General?"

Shang hesitates for a moment, unsure of what to say. "Um. Yes, sir."

Ping's father turns to his son, "I gave Ping a lesson earlier. He said he was tired."

"I was, Father."

"I see." Fa Zhou turns his head away from the two men. "What has changed?"

His son answers, "I have regained energy, sir." He recognizes his mistake and continues, "I am sorry, Father, that I did not spar with you longer, but now that Shang— I mean, General Li— is here may he have his sparring lesson with me?"

When he doesn't answer Shang comments, "I did ride here for one, sir."

Fa Zhou faces the general, "Something tells me you would have come anyway." before looking down on Ping, "But yes, you may have your sparring lesson with Li Shang."

Ping bows, "Thank you, Father."

"I trust we will finish our lesson later?"

"Yes, Father."

When Ping enters the training room with Shang he asks, "What is our lesson today, General?"

Shang had already taken off his restricting shirt and now stands in front of the many weapons. He smiles as he throws Ping a bamboo-stick and attains one for himself. "Blocking." He turns to Ping. "Find your center."

Ping questions, "Didn't you already teach us this in the army?"

He comes closer to his student, "It never hurts to learn something again." Ping blushes due to the close proximity but otherwise doesn't respond. "I will be the attacker. All you have to do is block and defend yourself." His smile widens, "Do you think you can handle that?"

Ping smiles as he leans on the stick towards Shang, "Yes, General."

Shang faintly laughs, "Rewards come from progress. Remember?" He pushes on Ping's shoulder to make him stand upright. "Take your stance."

Ping stands straight and spreads his feet, as he horizontally centers the bamboo-stick. "Ready." The attacks start slow as Shang intentionally hits Ping's stick, but as he starts to make less predictable moves they also increase in speed. Ping manages to block every attack up to ten minutes, but eventually it becomes routine and he gets distracted. _He really is perfect... He's strong, smart, brave, and unlike most men he's actually clean..._

After Ping misses a block he falls backward onto the floor. Shang goes down over him and pins Ping's left hand to the floor with his right. As the bamboo-sticks collide, Shang smiles, "You let your guard down."

"Maybe I wanted to." Ping turns his head, "I did last a while." and smiles brightly. "Do I get a reward, General?"

Shang laughs softly, "I think that can be arranged." He begins to lean in but stops when Ping looks to the doorway in fright.

"Father!" _Oh, no. I've really done it this time._

Shang swiftly turns in utter shock and embarrassment, "Fa Zhou."

Ping's father doesn't react. "Where are the coins you collected?"

"Um, ah. I think they're in the horse's pack." His father nods before turning and walking away. Shang meets Ping's eyes in shock as they realize they're still in position, and they quickly separate to stand up. Ping runs past a worried Shang before he reaches his father in the hallway, "I can explain."

Fa Zhou turns to meet his son, "You have no need to." The worried look is still present on Ping's face so he continues, "You don't eat. You ask if you can take the horse. This is about what I expected."

Ping slightly shakes his head, "Aren't you upset? I dishonor us."

His father takes a warm breath, "You saved China. You saved the emperor. That is enough honor, even if you choose to act in this behavior." Ping is about to say thank you, but his father speaks again. "I still want you married."

Ping slowly nods, "Yes, Father."

"And you will show up to my lesson."

"Yes, Father."

* * *

That night Ping shows up to the statue's unveiling and sees the countless lanterns lighting the street. The statue presents itself as a tall, strong monument that depicts Ping riding his horse angrily into battle. He walks up to it and sees the scripture. _Dedicated to Fa Ping for being the most honorable soldier, as he saved the emperor's life and rescued China from the Hun invasion._

Ping turns around to the silent audience, and he begins his speech. "I want to thank everyone for believing in me. It has never been easy." He looks within the audience and finds Shang. "At first even basic training seemed like a lot to handle." People begin whispering, yet he continues. "But in the end I managed to become one of the best." Ping looks over to Ling, Po, and Yao. "I want to thank my fellow soldiers for helping me achieve this honor. I couldn't have done this without them." He receives smiles from his friends but begins to feel dizzy, as the humidity takes over and makes his bun fall to his neck.

The whispers still echo in the streets, but he carries on. "I am so glad to stand here—" Ping reaches to his throat in fear of the high pitch he just heard, and when he brings his hand down he tries to keep his voice low as he endures, "To stand here is a great honor." He gets a couple weird looks from the soldiers, especially Shang. "I want to thank the general for training me the way he did." Ping sees his hands shrink and becomes anxious, but everyone's eyes are on Shang. "I couldn't have done it without you." Ping notices his chest beginning to swell and looks around in panic. Although most of everyone's eyes are on Shang, Shang himself is still looking directly at him.

Ping runs off the stage in horror and hopes no one will follow as he slips into an alleyway. He looks over himself carefully, but it doesn't take long for her to realize she has turned completely back into a woman. There are footsteps, and Mulan stays completely still as they come closer. "Ping?" It's Shang's voice. Mulan doesn't know what to say; she doesn't know how much he's seen, and she hopes he won't have to. "Why did you leave? What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Mulan tries to keep her voice low, but after hearing it she reaches for her throat again. "I'm just not feeling very well."

Shang begins to come closer, "Yeah. You don't sound well."

When Mulan sees his shadow creep up on her she motions for him to stop. "Please. Stay away."

"Why?" He stops in his tracks. The question had been dealt with more fear than anything, but it turns into a slight sadness. "Why won't you let me see you?"

Mulan stays silent, not knowing what to do, but after a moment she turns around. Shang's face changes from concern to shock and confusion. Seeing him like that makes her feel hurt, and she responds desperately, "I can explain." He turns his head in anger and begins out of the alleyway. Mulan calls, "Shang." in irritated helplessness, but he keeps walking and is soon out of view.

When Mulan gets back to the farm she goes from the stable straight to their ancestral temple. She walks up to the burning bowl of fire and lights an incense before sitting down in front of the tombstones. Mulan stares at her reflection in anguish, "Why did you do this to me? Was this your idea of a cruel joke? Am I only an experiment to you?" She watches as a single tear falls into her lap. "How could you do this to me? Why?" Her words turn to anger and she clenches her teeth, "What gives you the right?"

Mulan looks at the temple's exit, desperate. "I can't let my father see me like this." She looks at her reflection again and calms down as the cool air runs over her skin. She takes the teal fabric out of her fallen bun and runs her thin fingers through the black, shoulder-length hair before fixing it. _Okay. That's better._ Mulan checks the shiny tombstone and sees another problem. Her chest is bigger and not in a good way. _It's not as large as most, but it's still noticeable._ She looks around at the offerings until she finds the gauze and a knife.

After cutting a decent amount of gauze from the roll and effortlessly binding her chest with it, Mulan puts the light-brown shirt back on and heads back to the house. Only a few lanterns are lit and her father is nowhere to be seen, but in the hallways she notices more light and goes into the brightness. In the training room her father stands with his hands clasped behind his back, "Are you ready for your lesson?" There is no emotion expressed in his face.

Mulan walks into the room and moves closer to him, "Yes, Father."

Her father notices, "You look shorter."

She shrugs to buy time, "Maybe you just got taller." When he doesn't respond Mulan tries to walk past him, but he blocks her.

"You will not need to put on your armor." Her mouth opens in confusion. "You have fought without armor before." Mulan remembers the encounter with Shang earlier. "You will not need it now."

Mulan takes a step back before turning to the weapons behind her, "So, what is the lesson?"

When she turns back around Fa Zhou stabs her in the chest with the sword he had hidden behind his back. "You will never be my son."

Mulan gasps for air and holds her left hand up to her chest, as she sits straight up in bed. She pants and moves her hand to her wet scalp, as Mushu comments, "That must have been some dream."

"Did I say anything?" The question came almost as a whisper from how tired she is, but she still notices Mushu at the foot of her bed.

"Eh. I don't know. Something about 'General'. Other than that it was just sounds. Luckily you didn't scream, and it wasn't about the war so that's good." Mushu sees a haunting look in Mulan's eyes. "Unless it was." He walks up to her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Mulan shakes her head, "Not to you. Not right now."

Mushu tries to give a bright, comforting smile. "Are you sure? You know I'm your dragon. You can tell me anything." She just shakes her head tiredly. "Okay. Well, if that's the case, how about you try to get some more sleep? It's not even dawn yet."

Mulan shakes her head and stands from the bed. "I don't want to sleep. I just want to work." She lights a lantern and puts it on the pole before exiting the room in her blue tank top and shorts.

Mushu follows her to the kitchen, "I don't think this is a good idea. What if you wake someone up?" The cricket shivers a chirp. "See. Even the cricket agrees. Let's all just go back to bed. He's cold."

Mulan raises an eyebrow and partly smiles as she puts on her shoes. "Why don't you and Cri Kee just go back to bed, then? I can handle myself."

"What? No!" He watches as Mulan grabs the big bamboo-basket, and he lifts his arms when she looks back. "I am the mighty, all-powerful Mushu." He puts his arms down when she smiles. "I can't just hide out with the cricket. Who will protect you if I don't?"

Mulan was going to say she can protect herself, but instead she laughs, "What are you going to protect me from? The weeds?" She sees Mushu about to say something else, but she doesn't want to talk. _Or go back to bed. I just want to work._ "I can handle myself, Mushu. Don't worry about me." She glances at the cricket, "Cri Kee needs you more than I do right now." She exits the house and leaves Mushu in disappointment.

"Come on, Cri Kee. Let's get you back to bed." The cricket chirps with excitement and joy. "With any luck, maybe her grandmother will mistake you for her." The cricket cries with laughter. "Yeah, yeah. We all know there's a size difference." Mushu shakes his head, "Get over yourself."

Outside, Mulan has the lantern's pole pushed into the ground as she begins to weed the field. Thoughts of the nightmare cross her mind.

 _"_ _Sorry, Ping, but Cri Kee and I just couldn't wait to tell you the great news!"_

 _"_ _Ping?"_

 _"_ _This is no dream, boy."_

 _"_ _I know what I said. Just forget it. The sun's up and your father wants you in the dining room."_

 _"_ _My father?"_

 _"_ _No. Your girlfriend. Yes, your father! Now, come on. Walk out of here and into the dining room like a man. We don't want anyone to find out your little secret now, do we?"_

 _"_ _General Li Shang."_

 _"_ _Yes, sir."_

 _"_ _What are you here for?"_

 _"_ _I— I'm here to give Ping a sparring lesson, sir."_

 _"_ _Are these lessons of yours becoming a daily occurrence, General?"_

 _"_ _Um. Yes, sir."_

 _"_ _Something tells me you would have come anyway. But yes, you may have your sparring lesson with Li Shang."_

 _"_ _Father! I can explain."_

 _"_ _You have no need to. You don't eat. You ask if you can take the horse. This is about what I expected."_

 _"_ _Aren't you upset? I dishonor us."_

 _"_ _You saved China. You saved the emperor. That is enough honor, even if you choose to act in this behavior. I still want you married."_

 _"_ _So, what is the lesson?"_

 _"_ _You will never be my son."_

 _"_ _Why did you do this to me? Was this your idea of a cruel joke? Am I only an experiment to you? How could you do this to me? Why? What gives you the right?"_

When the basket's full of weeds Mulan looks at the pale grey-blue sky in hopelessness, before she takes the lantern off the pole and heads back to the house.

* * *

\- Let me just say that sexuality isn't a choice, unless you're bi in which case you can choose to ignore half of who you are; however, I don't at all advise you to do that. I just thought I'd mention that, as some characters seem to think it's a choice and in many cases no one tells them otherwise. I know that this was an insanely long chapter with over half of it being a dream sequence, but I hope you still liked it.

\- Edit: Don't feel bad if your mind wandered to places it shouldn't have this chapter. When I started to write this I was hoping my mom would read it, and since her mind can get stuck in the gutter I thought it would be funny to purposely write this chapter with endless double meanings. Little did I know that it would bother her that the names were foreign and therefore she didn't know who was a boy or a girl and couldn't remember who was who... She does have a mental disability that involves memory loss, so I will pretend that she didn't mean to quit reading even though she's never made it very far in any of my other writings either. (Passive aggressive pent up anger. I know. I'm sorry, but can you blame me? She didn't even make it past the first chapter, so I couldn't even laugh at her interpretation of this chapter. Looks like my cleverness was for nothing... or maybe not. Maybe some of you caught on. ;) )


	3. To Breakfast or Not To Breakfast

**June 27th (Day 2, Dawn)**

After the kitchen's fireplace is lit Mulan goes to the stone well to fill up two buckets of water, before she returns to the house and cleans her hands. She begins cooking stew in a pot over the fireplace as she brews the tea alongside it. She doesn't think of anything as she gathers the ingredients and cooks; Mulan feels completely numb and cold, but she's unsure if it's the weather's fault or her own emotions. She watches her actions, slowly, as she finishes the tea and sets it on the counter.

"You're up." Mulan hears her mother's half shocked, half pleased voice and feels the need to explain herself, but when she thinks about opening her mouth it doesn't happen. "You're not usually up this early. Is this something they teach in the army?"

Mulan looks up at her mother who's already dressed in one of her elegant everyday dresses. _Actually, in the army they didn't have you wake up 'til the sun had already risen. I either tried to wake up early to get dressed on time or stayed up all night training so no one could question my manliness._ She was going to actually say that in response to her mother's question, but it turns into a silent thought instead. She looks back at the stew, remembering the disaster with the matchmaker. _I just couldn't keep my mouth shut._ "Brides are quiet, demure, graceful, polite, delicate, refined, poised, and punctual." Mulan is somewhat surprised by her own words. _That was supposed to be a thought._

"You've been practicing."

 _She sounds so proud._ "Father told me to." _You still need to get married, no matter how hard being a bride is for you._ "I looked over the scrolls before I went to sleep last night."

Mulan doesn't turn around in fear that if she sees her mother, she will cry. "I'm happy to hear that." Mulan keeps her eyes on the stew. "You're cooking, too?" She can only nod. "That's great." Her mother hesitates, "but I will finish it for you." Mulan turns around in confusion, but there's this numb feeling that prevents her from speaking. "I want you dressed before Shang wakes up." She shakes her head disapprovingly, "You really shouldn't be dressed like that when there's a stranger in the house."

"Yes, Mother." Mulan keeps her head down and away from her mother as she exits the room. She goes down the hallway quietly, until she enters past the wrinkled, white cloth and into her room. A fire is lit and the cricket sleeps silently on the pillow. "Mushu?"

"Yes?" Mulan turns around in the center of the room and sees him back by the doorway.

"Cover your eyes. I'm getting dressed."

"Okay, fine." Mushu moves his ears over his eyes. "And here I thought you wanted to talk."

 _Should I tell him the dream?_ She shakes her head. _No. No._ Mulan marches to the wardrobe. _I have to get dressed_. However, when she opens it and sees the contents she finds herself disappointed. Somehow she had convinced herself there would be clothes she liked, that the clothes would have been more like the few outfits she had worn in the dream, but the majority of the clothes remain as countless pieces to the red, blue, and green dresses.

Mulan frowns as she touches the one outfit she would have felt like wearing today, an outfit she has worn nearly every day for the last three years but could never grow tired of. She takes out the light-brown army training-robe and smiles sadly as she steps in front of the mirror. Mulan admires the green trim as she imagines herself wearing it, but the fantasy crumbles when she hears the dragon speak. "Are you about done? My ears are beginning to hurt."

"Oh, right. Sorry." She rushes back to the wardrobe and puts the army robe away, "I'm still looking for something to wear."

The dragon comments, "Yes, yes. It must be awful nice to have more than one outfit again, but can you hurry this along?"

 _Not really that nice actually. If I didn't have all these other clothes, then I'd have an excuse to wear it._ Mulan smiles but shakes the thought away, as she gathers pieces of a green and blue dress and puts it on, "Don't worry. I think I found something." She looks at the full-length mirror, which stands near the left sidewall, and even though there are no flaws, her reflection makes her feel awkward and a little angry. She crosses her arms to cover her swollen chest and looks away from the mirror, as this sickening feeling fills her. She takes a breath and retreats back to the wardrobe, and when she does her hand reaches for the robe; however, in the end she forces it down to the gauze instead.

"Okay. I'm just going to say it. This is ridiculous." He puts is hands over his ears to keep them down, "Cri Kee and I could have walked around the entire estate and have returned back by now."

Mulan makes sure the isn't looking, before she takes the dress off and begins binding her chest with the gauze, "Mushu, there's no way you and Cri Kee could have done that in so little time. Why do you have to be so dramatic?"

"I'm sorry," he cries. "My ears just really hurt."

Mulan takes a frustrated breath but finds it to be slow and long, which she knows is only due to the binding. "I just need a minute." She puts the dress back on and hides the spare gauze back in the wardrobe before shutting it, "Okay. I'm done."

"Okay, good. Because I'm getting sick of all this nonsense." He uncovers his eyes. "Now, aren't you a vision. Shang will be so impressed when he sees you." Mulan stays quiet as she frowns into the mirror. "Now, come on. What's wrong, girl?" Mushu climbs up to her shoulders. He looks at her reflection as she walks closer to the wooden mirror, "I know what you need." He somehow styles her hair up with only his claws. "Now. All we need is a comb."

Mulan shakes her head, "No. This isn't right." as she fingers through her hair, making it go back to its original state. "Let's just keep it down."

"But, why? You like Shang don't you?" He interrupts as she's about to speak. "Well, then, why don't you impress him?"

"I just don't want to." She gestures to her reflection in irritation. "This isn't me."

"And who are you, exactly?" Mulan sees Mushu's sassy stance in the mirror, which she would normally smile at, but this time she just looks down and away in shame. She feels her face get warm as her vision glosses over. Mushu tries to lean over to see her expression but is unsuccessful, "Come on, girl. Tell me what's wrong."

Mulan stays silent as she begins to leave the room, and Mushu only jumps off her shoulder and onto the bed when he hears the cricket chirp. "Hey." He glances back at a tortured Mulan, as she heavily exits the room. "Man, I wish I knew what's wrong with her."

The cricket chirps and Mushu rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I know I've been her guardian for three years. That doesn't mean I know everything about her." There's another chirp. "Him? What do you mean him?" There's more chirps. Mushu waves his hands out, "Oh, please. She's not a crossdresser. The ancestors just over exaggerate. She's more like a, a—" He snaps his fingers, "What's that word?"

There's a chirp. "Right. That word. See. There's nothing to worry about." Cri Kee wants to believe it as much as Mushu does, but Mushu's over compensating look proves there is worry. "She's just like any other girl." He strains a smile, "She will marry, bear a son, and in no way will her behavior and decisions reflect badly on me." Mushu breaks down into tears, "What have I done? None of this would've happened if I just brought her back, but no. I had to make her a war hero." The cricket puts his hand on Mushu's back, and he stops crying. "Wait a minute here. Why am I blaming myself? This isn't my fault." The cricket chirps in support, before Mushu points a claw at him. "This is your fault."

Mulan enters the dining room and sees everyone sitting in their usual seats. Shang comments, "Mulan." as if he hadn't been expecting her to show up.

The room becomes even quieter, if that's even possible. "No one was talking about me, were they?" There are exchanged looks before Shang comments.

"Actually, we were talking about me."

"Really?" Mulan questions skeptically, eyeing the other people in the room.

"He comes from a fine family," Fa Zhou responds, and the chickens can be heard as the table becomes quiet again. "Sit down, my child. Have some stew." Mulan looks over at the dining room's dingy white cloth, only wanting to leave. "You didn't eat last night," her father notes. "You should eat this morning."

Mulan stares at the stew she had prepared earlier, "I'm not really hungry."

Grandmother Fa kindly comments, "At least have a cup of tea, dear."

Mulan takes a mild breath before sitting down in between Shang and her father. _You will never be my son._ She pours herself a cup of tea as she remembers the stabbing pain.

Fa Zhou comments, "So, how did everyone sleep?"

His mother and wife respond, "Fine."

Shang solemnly laughs, "Just as well as you'd expect after a war."

Mulan recalls her dream. She remembers Shang's conversation with her father. _General Li Shang. Yes, sir. What are you here for? I— I'm here to give Ping a sparring lesson, sir. Are these lessons of yours becoming a daily occurrence, General? Um. Yes, sir. Something tells me you would have come, anyway._ She remembers the anger and disappointment in her father's eyes, even though she hadn't noticed it in the dream. _But yes, you may have your sparring lesson with Li Shang._ She remembers it all too well. _Father! I can explain._

"Are you alright?" Mulan hears her father's voice and then notices everyone staring at her.

"Yes." She takes another sip of tea.

"Are you sure?" His eyes seem to contain fear and perhaps sadness, and she finds herself unable look at him.

"Yes. I'm fine, Father." She sees questioning gazes on her father's and grandmother's face, so she finishes her tea fast, not wanting to be the center of attention. "I'm going to finish weeding the fields." She grabs a large basket, but her father comments before she can leave.

"That is more work than a single person can handle."

Mulan leaves past the decorated sheet, "Don't worry. I can handle it."

After a minute passes Fa Zhou looks at Shang and motions his head up towards the doorway. Shang stands in understanding and exits the room, leaving behind his nearly empty bowl of stew.

When Shang makes it to the fields Mulan turns her head from the ground to him. He begins walking slower as he comes closer, "May I help?"

Mulan looks down the green barley field, "There's enough weeds to go around."

When she continues pulling weeds Shang notices the fast but steady pace. He begins weeding the other row slowly, and after a moment of silence he speaks, "So, there's something I've been wondering." Mulan doesn't reply, so he continues, "Why did you stay at the training camp after I told you to leave?" Mulan begins to weed slower. "I know that if you had left it would have made your family look bad, but most women wouldn't have stayed if they had the choice." He turns his head to see her bothered posture before continuing to weed. "Was there another reason you stayed?"

Mulan pauses for a second, as she remembers her father's words from after she had begged the soldiers not to enlist him. _Mulan. You dishonor me._ "No." She continues pulling the weeds with speed and ferocity. _You shouldn't have to go! There are plenty of young men to fight for China._ Mulan only now realizes just how personally she had taken it, but apparently even her father knew her motives before she did. _I know my place! It is time you learned yours!_ That was the last conversation they had, before she went to the Wu Zhong Camp and presented as a man for the following three years. She wouldn't dare tell anyone, but she feels those to be some of the best years of her life.

Shang continues weeding. _Why do I ask such stupid questions? Of course, she went for her family. Women are all about family! They wouldn't go otherwise. They would just stay home and raise their own family... Man, I'm such an idiot._ He breaks the silence, hoping to bring his thoughts to a better place, "Well, in any case, I meant what I said before... You do fight good."

Mulan slows her pace, "Thanks." _Seriously? Out of all the things he could've said, he said I fight good. I just got done saving China, and he says I fight good! I actually thought by the way he was acting that he was going to ask to marry me or something... I can be such an idiot sometimes. He knew me as a guy for three years. Of course, he wouldn't want to marry me._

Shang tries to lighten the tension, "If you're as good of a bride as you are a soldier, then you won't have any problems. Do— Do you—" He clears his throat. "Have you been engaged yet?"

"I saw the matchmaker right before I left for the camp," she responds as her body fills with an underlying fiery warmth and her hands shake from the tension of it. _You are a disgrace! You may look like a bride, but you will never bring your family honor!_

Shang questions sadly, "Oh, um. So, who's the husband?"

Mulan hides beneath her hair in shame, "There is no husband." She pauses. "First class women only get husbands if they act like second class women, and I just have issues in general."

"Oh." Shang tries not to smile as he pulls more weeds. "That's a shame."

Mulan keeps pulling the weeds, disappointed and angry with herself. There's nothing but the sound of birds, until the woven basket is filled to the brim. She stands, "Take it back to the house, will you?" and sees the path which leads to the dark wooden stable. "I'm going to take a walk."

 _Did she just give me an order?_ He looks from the basket to her in confusion but dismisses it, before he carries the weeds to the house.

* * *

\- Wondering what I changed? Well, basically since Shang is privileged and Mulan's family is supposed to be privileged, I realized he wouldn't assume she'd resort to seeing the matchmaker. As a first class family, Shang would assume that suitors would be sent to her; however, he would be wrong. I could only guess that she sees the matchmaker instead for the following three reasons: 1) Her father doesn't work as often since his war injuries and therefore may have lost some contacts from high society members of other villages. 2) As Mulan was never able to master the fine art of being a "proper" woman, her family may have felt shame and perhaps even assumed that only a desperate man would want her. 3) Let's be real. She lives on the outskirts of a small village. If her and her cousins are the only first class people there, then who else is she supposed to be married off to other than some low-class filth (quite literally, as hygiene was not what it currently is.) Please don't take offense. I'm poor, so it's okay for me to joke about... although, I will admit that even though I'd never say anything like that myself irl, sometimes when I write I can get stuck in the mind set of the characters. Seriously, though, to all of the people struggling out there, I hope you're doing well at least for the moment. Everyone deserves a break. I certainly wish I could get one.

\- For those curious, my health insurance was just cancelled for about the third time this year (last 12 months). I had to get new glasses a couple weeks ago, but then when I went to pick them up I found out they were never ordered; therefore, I have to wait to get them even ordered until I get my health insurance back... There's a lot more that my lack of insurance has affected too, which tends to get me a little anxious or feeling a bit hopeless, but it's probably too personal a thing to get into. Anyway, assuming my insurance will go back three months like they typically do and pay those bills, then there's nothing to worry about. Probably. Hopefully.


	4. The Promise

**June 27** **th** **(Day 2, Late Morning)**

When Mulan enters the stable she walks up to the black horse and begins to brush him. She drags the wooden brush down Khan's fur, hopeless, as she smiles at him. "We had quite an adventure, didn't we?" The horse's head slightly nods, before he begins to eat from the small pile of barley. Mulan continues to whisper, now more to herself than to the horse, "I thought if I went something would change, but now our ride is over." She takes a frustrated breath, "It's been three years and almost everything is the same. How could so much happen in three years and nothing to have changed?"

The horse neighs and swings his majestic, grey tail. She continues to brush him, "Don't misjudge me. I am glad Father is alright." She pauses a moment, remembering the nightmare. "I am glad he's okay." She continues to brush. "I just expected something would change, that maybe I would change." She shakes her head, "I don't know. It's a stupid thought." The horse neighs. "I don't know what I was thinking. I risked my life, I'm at odds with my family, and now the people who respected me the most probably think I'm either a liar or crazy." As Mulan takes a heart-wrenching breath, the horse looks up and rests his head on her shoulder, and Mulan slightly smiles. "At least I have you."

"You have more than that."

Mulan turns to the stable door as she exits the horse's hug. "Grandmother."

"I thought you'd be here." She begins to walk over, and Mulan puts the hard bristle brush back on the steel nail. "Tell me. What's bothering you?"

Mulan turns back to the horse's stall and just stares down. "Nothing." She clenches a hand up to her sword-slain heart, "It's nothing." She moves over to another stall, this one filled with barley.  
"Clearly it is something." The grandmother gives an unseen, warm smile. "You remember our agreement, don't you?"

Mulan stares at the bags of barley, "If I can't tell Father or Mama something, then I have to tell you." She remembers a conversation her and her grandmother had when she was fourteen, in this very stable. Her father had just gotten home from war. Mulan had talked with him as he put his armor away, glad that he returned home safely, but she didn't directly follow him out of the room. Instead, she stayed behind and took the sword back out of the wardrobe. By the time her father came back she already had a chunk of hair on the floor. She heard his footsteps and turned around to see him still, shocked, before he came over to take the sword away. While her mother told him what happened when he was at war, Mulan was in the stable talking with her grandmother. During their conversation Mulan had promised to tell her whenever whatever was wrong. As it turned out her parents agreed her hair was too short for her age and ordered her to grow it out, which meant that the uneven slice of the sword would remain as a reminder for the following three years.

The memory fades and Mulan turns to her grandmother. It's clear by her expression that Mulan had just missed something, but before she can ask what her grandmother had said, she speaks again, "What's wrong?"

Mulan looks away and down towards the barley, which in her imagination is briefly turned into the weaponry that adorned the training room in her dream. "I just didn't sleep well." Mulan remembers her father swinging the sword at her, but instead of being stabbed she imagines the barley being slit instead. Her grandmother doesn't speak, so she continues, "It started out as a dream, but it ended up as a nightmare." She pauses for a moment, remembering the anger and disappointment in her father's eyes. "There were signs it wouldn't turn out well, but I didn't notice them until it was over."

Mulan grabs a bag of barley as her grandmother comments, "Dreams are powerful things."

Mulan empties the bag and watches slowly as the barley falls down onto the rest of the horse's grains and Khan continues to eat. "They are powerful."

Grandmother Fa sees her grandchild's despair, "What was the dream about?"

Rapid flashes run through Mulan's mind, which are hard to comprehend, but it doesn't matter. _I will never be able to forget this._ "In the dream I woke up... I woke up and—" Mulan has a hard time forming the words so that the issue won't be too direct. "Things were different, but in a good way."

She stares at the planks of dark wood, running the seemingly perfect life through her mind. "I was different— but I had Shang, and Father was well." Mulan sees her grandmother slightly tense. "In the dream I did something that he didn't agree with… and at the end of the nightmare I was stabbed with the sword." _The sword I had used during the war. The sword I had cut my hair with. The sword… who knew a single item could hold so many memories._

The grandmother speaks, "Perhaps the ancestors are trying to tell you something."

 _"_ _You will never be my son." There has to be more to it than that._ Mulan shakes her head, "Well, if they are, they're doing a pretty awful job at it." She grasps the horse's stall and leans, hunched over, as she takes an exasperated breath, a hopelessness filling her at the laughable thought that she could ever actually make them proud. "At this point, I don't really care what they think anyway."

Her grandmother walks a few steps closer, "What happened? You never would have said that before." She emits a small chuckle. "I remember when you were younger." She slightly smiles. "You saw how your father would pray to the ancestors every day, so you thought you would try it yourself. Everyone told you that you shouldn't, because most women wait to pray to their husband's ancestors, but that didn't matter to you. You would go to the temple nearly every day and pray to them." Her smile fades. "What has changed?"

Mulan recalls her prayers as a child. She prayed for change. She prayed for her father's return while he'd been at war. She would pray all day, hoping the ancestors would let her family love her without trying to change her. Half of the time she didn't even understand her own prayers or why she even prayed in the first place. _Why did I bother? Everyone told me I wasn't supposed to, and it didn't even really make a difference._ "What changed is I realized they can't help me."

Her grandmother laughs. "Of course, they can't help you. They're dead. They couldn't even help themselves." She had hoped for a smile to break on Mulan's face, but it stays as bleak as ever. "Don't let any of this bother you, child. I know a lot of people believe the ancestors can change things, but they can't change anything unless you want it to change. And if you want something to change, then you have to change it yourself."

Mulan looks up at the wooden wall behind the eating horse. She reaches for her hair, as she remembers the night she left for the army. _I already tried to change things, but it didn't change anything._ "Nothing changes." _Everything I did, all it's done is make things worse._ "It feels like everyone just ignores everything I do, unless it involves getting a husband or taking care of the house."

"The things you do are not ignored."

Mulan laughs at her anger and defeat. "No. Of course, not. I just get lectured with looks of failure and dishonor." Mulan takes an emotional breath as a tear streams down her cheek. "Even when I try my hardest to be anything but me, I end up disappointing everyone." She shakes her head, "The matchmaker will never see me again." and remembers the words clearly. "I can dress up like a bride, but I'm not one." She laughs as she grasps hard onto the wooden fencing, "I just have a hard time comprehending it all, and the rules just don't stick to my actions even when I can recall them." Mulan takes a hopeless breath, her head bent down as she shuts her eyes and tries to accept what she's already known, "I will never be able to honor this family, not in the way that truly counts."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that. General Li Shang seems like a nice lad. He has an older brother, so he will need property." Mulan looks up and sees her grandmother's hopeful smile. "He has known you for a while. He may be a good choice."

She shakes her head, "That's exactly the problem. He's known me as a man for three years." She laughs at the thought. "He won't want to marry me." _Wouldn't that be something._

"People may surprise you." Mulan turns around to see the wisdom in her grandmother's tired eyes and wonders what she knows. "Come back to the house. You've had a long morning. You deserve some more tea, and the soup is waiting for you whenever you're ready."

Mulan moves her left hand over her empty, silently rumbling stomach. "Well, a small bowl can't hurt." The horse neighs in agreement as they exit the darkness. The sun is hidden, but the sky remains.

* * *

\- I'm surprised how little I had to edit for this chapter. I forgot how amazing... well, maybe not amazing, but certainly how good the imagery is. Pretty surprising I could forget something like that, since I've reread these first 10 or so chapters so many times that they're more boring than I can even believe. Seriously, I can't wait for Yong's story-line. It's so exciting that it never gets boring no matter how many times you read it... but that's just my opinion. Oh, speaking of Yong, I now have a music playlist for this fanfiction on my Youtube (AshLand Writer). The first half of the playlist is for Mulan's character and the second half is for Yong's character, although I suppose some of the songs can work well as just an overall feeling of this fic. I tried to compile the songs I was listening to when I first wrote this as well as some newer ones. If it turns out I missed any that were important enough for me to mention in the comments section, then I'll add it to the list when I read it; although, I don't think I was writing very many comments when I first posted these chapters.


	5. The Lunch that Almost Happened

**June 27** **th** **(Day 2, Noon)**

When Mulan and her grandmother enter the dining room, Shang and Fa Zhou briefly look in their direction before turning back to the bowls of rice. Mulan sits down in between Shang and her father. As her grandmother sits down, Mulan turns her head to her mother, before her mother stares down at her own bowl of soup. _She's ignoring me again._ The silence is overbearing as the only sound is Mulan pouring herself a cup of tea; however, soon enough her father combats the silence.

"So, how is the progress of the fields?"

She takes a sip of tea, "I got more done early morning."

Fa Li slowly raises her head, seemingly appalled, "You were in the fields this morning before breakfast?" Mulan takes her first sip of the soup but otherwise stays quiet. The look on her mother's face makes it apparent that she remembers what Mulan had worn this morning. "What were you thinking? You could've gotten yourself sick." Her patronizing glare becomes tense. "What if someone had tried to attack you?"

Mulan freezes and stares at her soup-filled spoon, before she places it back into the bowl and looks down and away, "I was thinking that if I was up I might as well make myself useful, and as far as weather goes I've been in worse."

"You could have been attacked."

She grasps tightly onto her teacup, and she can feel her hand shake at the force, "You're forgetting that I've spent three years in the army."

"Just because you dressed up like a man and broke the law, which almost resulted in your own death may I add, does not mean you can defend yourself." Mulan stares at the cup. She had feared her grip would cause it to break, but now all she can imagine is the thought of it breaking and slicing her hand open. Anything else would be better than this. "Your place is in the house and when necessary the fields, but you do not go out in the night without a man's protection. Your husband defends the house and family, not you. You are now and will always be a woman. Don't forget it."

 _How could I forget when it seems like no one does anything but remind me of it?_ She forces herself to let go of the teacup, but by doing so she feels herself shake even more as the rage within her ignites into a conflagration. She needs something to do. She can't do this. She has to leave, so Mulan stands from the table and tries to calmly comment, "There's more work to do." before picking up the large, woven basket; however, she hears her words are tense and forced. _But how could they not be?_

"I am your mother! You don't speak to me like this."

Mulan stands still and stares blankly. What could she say? She tried, but saying anything at all would only make things worse. No. It will be better if she doesn't speak. _After all, women are supposed to be demure and quiet. Anything else is just plain rude._ She clenches her teeth. Any other man could be as outspoken, angry, or active as she tends to be and no one would even blink an eye, because it's seen as typical male behavior. _But I'm a girl, and nothing could ever change that._ She slowly shakes her head as she lets out the breath she'd been holding, before she grips harder onto the basket and marches out the door. She has work to do.

* * *

Shang notices Mulan's grandmother looking at her granddaughter's barely touched soup in slight stress, before she asks, "Must you be so stern with her?"

Fa Li lays the chopsticks on the empty rice-bowl, "I am only saying the truth."

Grandmother Fa's head shakes, "You know that's not right. I told you the stories, remember: the ones of when I was a girl and had to defend my mother and sister from raiders?"

"That was different." She takes a sip of tea. "You knew your place."

"You believe Mulan doesn't?" More tea is poured and sipped.

"I believe if she continues like this, she will only end up in trouble." She looks into the sad teacup. "If I am to be honest, then no, I don't believe she knows her place. You've seen how she acts."

Fa Zhou interrupts, "What's important is that she does try."

Fa Li drinks the rest of her tea, "Well, her actions don't show for it."

Shang feels like there's more they're not telling him but isn't quite sure of what it could be. _And why does Mulan's mother keep telling her that she isn't a man. That is obvious, right? Mulan surely knows that herself... Is this only happening because she went to war in her father's place to save him? If so, then it doesn't seem very fair. She did the right thing. I think so anyway... It was brave. She is brave._ Silence deafens the dining room, so when Shang finishes his large bowl of rice he exits the room and house. He walks his way to the fields and is surprised by how much progress has already been made. The basket is already a fifth of the way full. Mulan stays silent as she continues attacking the weeds. Shang kneels down and begins the opposite row, wondering what he can say. "You were my best soldier. You can defend yourself. Don't let anyone make you think otherwise."

Mulan's weeding becomes slightly slowed, but she continues at a steady pace. "Thanks."

Shang continues pulling at the weeds but somehow finds being the head of an army the easier task. "You joined the army to save your father... If they're holding that against you, they shouldn't be."

Mulan stays quiet for a moment, but the silence makes her feel sick. _I'm tired of hiding, lying, or just staying quiet. He's known me for so long. Is it possible he could understand?_ "I went for more than just my father. I also went for myself."  
"What do you mean?" He pauses for a moment. "Before, you said—"

"I know what I said." She takes a worried breath, "I was afraid that if I told the truth, then you'd think different of me." Mulan turns around to see Shang become still for a moment. "Don't get me wrong; there was a time when I truly believed I only went for my father, but recently I realized that I also went for myself."

"What do you mean?

Mulan continues to pull at the weeds, making significant progress. "It's hard to explain, but when I'm here I feel like I'm just putting on an act to make everyone else happy." She shakes her head, "And I fail miserably at it." and takes an irritated breath. "It just became so hard, and after what happened with the matchmaker I figured that I'd never be able to play this part." She remembers the argument she had with her father before she ran away, feeling like laughing at her behavior and all of the obvious signs but stops herself. "Thinking back on it, I think the part that bothered me the most about Father being enlisted is that I wasn't able to be. I know it doesn't make sense, but— Do you understand any of this at all?" Mulan temporarily stops weeding, before she remembers the task.

Shang continues to weed through his puzzled thoughts. "Not really, but you did say it was hard to explain." He has a hard time grasping the new information and thinks back to the lessons taught by his late grandfather, "I'm sure in time everything will be revealed, though, and I will try my best to understand when it does." _Who actually wants to join the army, besides my father? Father._ He remembers the fiery ruins of the village, and his father's helmet being handed to him. _Only Ping— Mulan. Only Mulan spoke up to comfort me when I made the sword and helmet into his memorial._

"Thank you."

"Thank me for what?"

"Thank you for trying to understand." Mulan keeps her eyes on the weeds. "It means a lot."

"Oh." Shang had almost forgotten what he had said. "No problem."

There is momentary silence before Mulan asks, "When do you leave?"

Shang hesitates, "I'm not sure." He pauses. "I was thinking I'd head out in a couple days. I have to see how my brother is handling our mother and sister." He looks down at the weeds in guilt, "I sent them a letter about what happened to our father the evening before the army's celebration. I didn't want them to hear it from someone else first." He shakes his head as his voice becomes sterner and more structured, "I sent a letter instead of going straight there. Did I do the right thing?"

"It's understandable." Mulan is farther down the row now and switches to the row Shang is working on, so they can remain within hearing distance. "You weren't sure of how the emperor would react." She shrugs, "I probably would've done the same thing if I were you."

"Would you have done anything different, if you had known what you know now?"

"You mean other than my horrible introduction?" They both smile, but neither knows the other is. "I don't know if I would. I mean, I always tell myself I would, but the reality is that the smallest things change everything." She weeds faster as the memories flood her mind, "If I hadn't been stabbed I wouldn't have been outed, and if that didn't happen then we would have never won against Shan Yu." She attempts to calm her anger with a breath, "I guess things happen for a reason."

"Even you being born a woman? If you hadn't been you could've gone into the army without creating problems for yourself, and I'm sure we could have defeated Shan Yu eventually." Shang regretted saying it the moment it escaped his mouth, and even if he's unsure why, he has to ask, "Is there a reason for that as well?"

"There's a reason for everything." She whispers to herself, "There has to be."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. It seems like a tough topic around here, and even if I don't know why shouldn't have said anything." Shang's weeding is now slower than before.

"Why shouldn't you mention it? Everyone else does." Mulan works even faster, now strangling the weeds as she pulls them from the ground, but it won't help anything.

"Actually, it seems like the only one who purposely brings it up is your mother. Your grandmother doesn't seem to mention it at all. Your father— Well, it seems like he tries his best."

Mulan shakes her head, "That's only when you're around, when other people are around." Mulan remembers when she was younger. She was sat down and told she could no longer keep her hair short. When she asked why, her father only explained that boys keep their hair short and girls have to grow theirs out. Mulan had stayed quiet, contemplating how long hair just felt so weird, but she remembers her mother's condescending look. _She had asked if I wanted to look like a boy, as if it were a bad thing. Of course, I said no._ She remembers how, even though her father seemed convinced, her mother clearly wasn't. _But what else could I have done? I saw what the boys wore and the activities they were allowed, and I was jealous. But it's not like I could have said that._ Mulan shakes her head, "It's worse when they get me alone, just the things they say."

"What do they say?"

"I'd rather not talk about it." Mulan remembers the months leading up to her seeing the matchmaker. _Mother kept telling me to quit acting like a boy, but I had no idea what she was talking about. It's not like I had brothers, and the only time I left the estate was when we went to the market. She never explained anything either. She just always assumed I was doing things on purpose._

"Okay. Would you mind if I asked another question?"

"What is it?"

Shang tries to sort through the new information as he remembers the last meal's conversation, "Why does your mother act the way she does?" He sees Mulan stop weeding. "It's just that you took your father's place and saved his life, so why does she seem so mad and disappointed? You returned home safely. I would think she would be happy and proud."

Mulan shakes her head, "All I can tell you is that her disappointment is nothing new." She hesitates to continue, "Mother never thought I acted like a proper woman, and clearly she had wanted the perfect daughter." _I know my place. It is time you learned yours._ "And I know you feel like my father tries his best, but he has his concerns as well." _If people find out or even suspect I have no son and if I'm gone, then you will lose the farm if unmarried. I want that to be prevented._

"I'm sorry." Shang takes a breath of sympathy, "It must have been hard." Shang still doesn't fully understand the topic. _But you don't need to understand something to talk about it._

"It was." Mulan shakes her head and almost laughs. "It still is." She sees her vision blur with tears, but she hides the fallen tear as she takes a calming breath and continues to weed.

The silence remains, neither one feeling the need to continue talking, but Mulan recalls when she was around thirteen or fourteen years old. Her mother was trying to explain the purpose of a dudou as they sat on the bed in her room. "I don't want to wear it."

"You don't have a choice. You have to."

"Why?"

"You are a growing woman, and women need to wear these."

"I don't want to." Thinking back on it Mulan realizes she probably thought that if she said no, then the problem would just go away. She shakes her head at the weeds.

"You have to." Clearly her mother expected the conversation to be simpler than this.

"Why?" Mulan remembers looking at the red garment in terror and confusion.

"Because, you're a woman."

"Why?"

"Why, what?" Her mother had put the garment down on the bed.

"Why was I born a girl?"

"You just were." He mother clearly seemed stressed from the conversation. "You pray to the ancestors. Next time, ask them why. I don't have the answers."

Mulan remembers feeling hopeless and unsure of what to do. "I don't want to deal with this."

"You'll get used to it." She stood from the bed. "I'm going to begin dinner." _She just left the room. I was terrified, confused, and hopeless, and she just left the room._ The garment mocked her from the bed as she sat there without a single thought to help her.

The memory moves forward to her in the ancestral temple. _I had taken her advice and asked the ancestors why, but I got no reply. I just sat there all day, waiting for a sign, but there was none. I returned every day and waited forever for something, for anything, but I was left alone._ She laughs to herself. _I'm surprised I didn't quit praying sooner._ She recalls how she had prayed before running away to war. _They were never going to help me. According to Mushu, he was only supposed to bring me back._ She smiles. _Actually, it wasn't even supposed to be him. They had tried to awaken the most powerful guardian just to bring me back. Do they really see me as so much trouble that they had felt the need to awaken the most powerful one?_ Her smile drops, as she realizes that may actually be the case.

Mulan continues pulling at the weeds as those memories among several others are replayed over and over in her mind. Eventually she finds herself piling the weeds on an overflowing basket as Shang comments, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." _What else could I say? No. I'm not, and I'm going to tell you my entire life's story so you know why._ Mulan shakes her head. "Yes. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" _She doesn't seem fine._

"Yes. I'm sure." Mulan picks up the basket, and they head back across the almost weedless field.

* * *

\- I really like how I didn't just lazily fix mistakes but that I also managed to build up the first half of the chapter more. Granted, I did that a little while ago, but when I compared it to what was previously posted I couldn't help but be impressed with how much better it was. In this version of the chapter I don't assume the audience would have gone through something similar, resulting for those who haven't to just think the character is crazy. No. In this version I build up the tension, show how much Mulan struggles not to "misbehave", and then have her list the reasons why she's so frustrated on her way out of the door. Yep. Kind of hard for a reader to think she's just being bratty when I list the reasons right out for them... luckily I think I managed to do that without breaking the "show don't tell" rule, which is a thing so that writings don't get so terribly boring to the point that no one reads them. Why do you think everyone hates History class? It's because they leave all of the interesting things out, and then what they do leave in is always described as "This person was a general who participated in this war on this day of this year at this place. That war would lead to so many deaths, but eventually this side won and managed to earn their independence blah, blah, blah." History could be sssoooo much more interesting if they just did it right. *Sigh* All well. With the kind of grading system that have people start at the top and have no where to go but down, what else would be expected? It's almost like they want us to fail. Good thing I won't have to take history classes anymore... unless art history turns out to be required. Please don't say it's so. I don't think it will be. The school's site lists it as a separate minor, but it never hurts to be pessimistic. It's a lot better to start at a low note and then find yourself at a higher one, rather than starting up high and then suddenly crashing down to the ground. Yep... This is getting way too long for no apparent reason. Must be because of all of the rambling. ONTO thee next chapter me mateys! lol.


	6. Soup and Go

**June 27** **th** **(Day 2, Late Afternoon)**

There is nothing but silence. Mulan fears entering the house again but keeps up with Shang, as they begin to head inside. When they enter the dining room her grandmother comments, "I've been waiting for you. Come. Sit down." and her face is lit with calm determination and warm heart.

Mulan does as her grandmother asks of her but questions, "Where is Mother?" and Shang sits. As much as he would have liked to take a different seat, he is unsure if he should, so he doesn't.

Mulan's grandmother comments with slight concern, "She is in the sitting room with your father." She sadly smiles and nods to the cold, lonely soup. "It's still waiting for you."

Mulan slightly smiles but then grimaces when she actually sees it. She remembers how after a couple months at the camp she started eating with the guys. _We would just talk about training, the food, and each other's lives. I may not have talked much, but at least I could make it through a meal without being told I'm… a crossdresser, a woman dressing as a man but who is not one. Someone who's no picture of masculine strength nor divine piece of womanly art._ Mulan stares down at the bowl. _I'm nothing... You're a disgrace! You may look like a bride, but you will never bring your family honor!_ "I'm not sure I want to." Mulan can see their worried and slightly confused faces, but she stays silent.

Her grandmother forces a smile and coaxes, "Come on, now. A growing young person like yourself has to eat." The grandmother had expected at least a slight smile, but there isn't one.

Shang attaches a slight grin to a laugh, "Come on, now. If you don't eat I'll have the guys stage another intervention."

Mulan slightly smiles with tired shock, "You wouldn't."

"I would." His smile brightens. "Come on. Eat, before I write the letters." Mulan picks up the spoon with a smile, as she shakes her head and begins to eat.

Her grandmother comments, "What was the first intervention for?"

Shang takes a breath, "The first few dealt with her lack of sleep and eating." Shang remembers the camp, "We weren't going to say anything, but we realized how important it was after he started fainting in the middle of training. He did eat breakfast and dinner, but often he would skip lunch and even sleep to train." He recalls how Ping would continue training during breaks. "It probably wouldn't have been that bad if he drank more water, but we had to do something."

Mulan's grandmother nods in understanding but doesn't speak.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He puts a hand up to his head. "I don't know what I was thinking."

Mulan lifts her head up from the distracting soup, "What are you sorry for?"

Shang comments in embarrassment, "I called you 'he'."

"Oh, that." Mulan distracts herself with the soup again before pouring herself a cup of tea. "You don't need to be sorry." She tries to hide her smile. "I don't mind."

"You don't?" Shang isn't quite sure what to say. _She doesn't mind?_

"I don't." Mulan takes a sip of tea before trying to balance the silence. "You probably just called me that because of the way I presented myself then." She stirs and soup and takes a sip to prevent herself from grinning. "In any case you don't need to be sorry."

Grandmother Fa can tell Shang doesn't know how to respond, "How are the fields?"

Mulan takes another sip of tea, "One of them is almost completely weedless now."

Mulan's grandmother nods as she takes a sip of tea, "That should keep the fires lit tonight."

No one responds and the silence remains, until Mulan is almost done with the soup and her father enters. Everyone briefly looks up to see him, but as Shang and Grandmother Fa turn their heads back down Mulan tries to look over her father's shoulder. He comments, "Your mother is still in the other room." He goes over to his seat to sit, "She is starting a quilt for the winter."

Grandmother Fa nods, "That's good. We could use another quilt."

Fa Zhou notices Mulan is finished with the soup, "Would you like to join me for a game of go?" Shang looks puzzled, even after Mulan responds.

"Go? It's been a long time." She finishes her cup of tea, as she remembers that her mother is in the same room the game is played. "I don't know. I was just going to sleep." _I don't want her to give me looks that say I should be focusing on getting a husband._ Mulan shakes her head. _Is that all I'm allowed to do, dress up in colorful fabrics and serve a man?_

Her father comments, "Just one game. If you still feel like resting after, then you may."

Mulan lets out a defeating breath, "Alright. One game."

Shang comments through his confusion, "You play?"

Mulan turns to him, "Yes. Why wouldn't I?"

Shang suddenly feels like he shouldn't have said anything, but he still comments as he briefly scratches the side of his face. "It's just that, from what I understand, woman don't normally play go." He sees Mulan's face change but doesn't understand its meaning. "It's just that it's such a complicated game." He thinks back to when he was taught, "I hardly know how to play it myself." Mulan shifts her head in interest. "If a woman does play a game it's normally checkers." He still can't get a read on her expression. "From what I've seen, anyway... That's all I meant by it." Mulan's face doesn't shift much, leaving him slightly anxious.

"Well, I do play." She stays silent a moment before inquiring, "I thought you knew me better."

Shang's reaction is delayed with blank thoughts, "I didn't mean it like that. I just—" He pauses and remembers what she said out in the fields. _I went for more than just my father. I also went for myself. When I'm here I feel like I'm just putting on an act to make everyone else happy, and I fail miserably at it._ "You're not like other girls, are you?" He sees her expression become sad, but he also notices the anger. _What did I say?_

Mulan shakes her head. _Should I say something?_ "No. I'm not." _Okay. Looks like I just did._ She tiredly asks her father, "Do you still want to play?" She sees his nod, so they stand and leave the room.

Shang stays silent for a second, his thoughts wandering. He recalls when he first met Ping. _Mulan. Her name is Mulan. How could I have not known? Three years and I didn't know. Is she just that deceiving? 'Treacherous snake.' Or was she being genuine? 'I think the part that bothered me the most about Father being enlisted is that I wasn't able to be.' She had to have been genuine, but how could I have not known? 'Cross-dress.'_ Shang sits up taller. _Unless she's had practice... No. No. It has to be something else._ He sees Grandmother Fa begin to stand, "Wait!" Shang laughs uncomfortably, realizing how urgent and desperate he sounded. "This may not be my place, but I was wondering... Is Mulan— Is she... Different?"

Grandmother Fa stands again, "You're right. That isn't your place." Shang looks down at the table in shame as she turns her head back. "She will tell you when she's ready." Shang looks up as Mulan's grandmother exits to the hall.

"What's that supposed to mean," he whispers to himself. He is disappointed not to have gotten a clear answer, but is even madder at himself for bringing it up in the first place. _What if I misheard what was said? She could have as easily said 'distress'… No. No. That makes no sense in the context of what she said._ He stands angrily frustrated. _But, then, what had she said?_ He takes a deep breath in attempt to calm himself, before he leaves the dining room and journeys through the halls.

When he reaches the room he's staying in he hears what sounds to be an unpleasant conversation. Shang briefly looks into the guestroom before deciding to move past it instead. He walks by the door of the training room and can hear them, but he's still out of view and can't see them. He hears Mulan's mother, clearly angry and upset, "She shouldn't even be playing games right now. She's nineteen and she still doesn't have a husband to look after her."

"I can look after myself." Mulan sounds annoyed. _How long has this been going on for?_

"No, you can't. You need a husband, so you have a place to live." There's a slight pause, but it continues just as fierce. "We all know how much you wish you could be a man, but you aren't. It's about time you deal with it."

He hears Mulan comment defensively, "I never said I wanted to be a man."

"Perhaps, but you never said you didn't either.

Mulan's father interrupts the quarrel with a bothered tone, "We just want what's best for you."

Mulan looks over the game, "You win." and pauses before continuing in frustrated sadness. "For once, let's have you be the one forced to wear a dress and serve another person's every wish, and not be allowed to talk unless you're given permission." She tries to steady her breathing, as she can't tell if she's about to smile or cry, "That's the future you're asking of me, Father, so forgive me if I have a hard time believing you want what's best for me." She sadly laughs, "I just wish you could understand how I feel about this."

Fa Zhou was about to speak, but Fa Li sees the defeat on his face and comments instead, "He's not asking you to do anything that any other woman wouldn't be proud to do herself." The mother stops quilting to look sternly into Mulan's eyes, "Women serve their husbands, because they want to show their thankfulness and so that they may respect a tradition that honors the ancestors." She emphasizes, "You should be proud to be a woman, and you should be proud to carry out your duties."

Mulan huffs, "Whatever." in a hopeless manner and stands from the table.

Shang realizes Mulan is about to storm out of the room, so he hides behind the doorframe of the training room. _That was… an interesting conversation._ Shang puts a hand up to his head. _Actually, it's a little confusing. I understand why her grandmother didn't want to say anything._ He hears footsteps stop near the room he's in and recognizes the voice.

Grandmother Fa comments, "Things will get easier."

Shang can't be sure, but it kind of sounds like Mulan is crying or at least upset, "No. It won't." There's a pause and a short laugh, "In a few months everyone will think that my father has a son. Can't I just be Ping all the time?"

"You and I both know there's a problem with that." There's another pause. "You like the general, don't you?" Shang carefully peaks past the doorway. _I have to be hearing things._

He notices both a tear and a smile on Mulan's face as she replies, "I do."

"How do you expect to be with Shang if you're Ping all the time?"

Mulan turns her head, "It doesn't matter. He won't want to marry me anyway." She emits a small laugh as another tear falls to her cheek. "He's known me as Ping for so long, he probably just thinks of me as another one of the guys." She looks back up, "I don't mind, but it's hard for a guy to like you if they think of you as one."

"Just give it time." The grandmother's smile is actually sweet. "Everything changes with time."

Mulan's mouth shifts, so you can't tell if she's smiling or not. "I think I'll just go to sleep."

The grandmother continues her sad smile, until Mulan is out of the hallway. Shang watches as she begins to walk closer to the doorframe, and he hides further inside. He's surprised to see her walk into the room and stand closer to him. "I trust you learned everything you needed to know."

Shang is taken aback by her words, "I—" He calms down, realizing she had purposely set the conversation within hearing distance. _It was a lot, but—_ "She likes me."

Grandmother Fa nods, "She does." Shang shifts his eyes away in contemplation. "Do you?"

"Do I what?" _I've had enough cryptic conversations to last a lifetime._

"Do you like her?" Grandmother Fa is clearly earnest, yet kindly determined to find the answer.

Shang doesn't know what to say, "I thought I did, but now I'm not even sure if I know who he— she— they are." He gives an unsure look, "She asked if she could be Ping all the time."

There's a brief pause, but Shang finds her smile comforting. "Mulan is a complicated soul. The best way to get to know her is with time, and from what I hear you have plenty of just that."

"I've known him— her for three years." He shakes his head, "Sorry, I can't think straight right now." and takes a much needed breath. "I just don't know how much I'll be able to learn about her in only a few months."

Grandmother Fa comments, "You learned a lot today."

Shang laughs as he nods tiredly, "I did."

"All we can do is take it one day at a time, and in time you will understand who she is."

Shang nods again, "Thank you." He looks back to the doorway. "This is a lot of new information. I'm going to sleep on it."

Grandmother Fa nods, and as he exits into the guestroom she moves into the sitting room. Fa Zhou comments with worry, "How is she?"

His mother sits down near him, "I talked to her, and I think she's doing a little better now. She said she was going to sleep."

Fa Li has continued to work on the quilt. "That girl needs a reality check. She is not now and will never be a man. She needs to understand that and just do her duties." No one argues with her.

Mushu comments, "That really was some dream. Wait. Where did I go? Did he kill me too?"

Mulan shakes her head, "I don't know. You just kind of disappeared. In the dream I thought you were just mad at me for calling you annoying. Wait." Mulan gives him a questioning look, "Out of everything that happened in it, you picked that? There isn't anything else that concerned you or that you wanted answers for?"

"Let me think here... Um, no... Nope... No. Why? Should there be?"

"I guess not." Mulan hides under the covers as she sleeps, even though the fire is lit.

* * *

\- There probably wasn't enough time to laugh if you were engaged in the story, and I know I didn't find it funny when I first wrote it, but just that part where Fa Li says that Mulan must want to be a man because she never said she didn't want to be one is unbelievable. I know other things would have led her to that conclusion as well, but it's like saying that someone must want a different eye color or a different job just because they never said they didn't want those things... With literally anything really: "They must want (insert thing), because they never said they didn't want it." It's a very remarkable way of thinking, and just because she may so happen to be right doesn't make that line of thinking any less... I'm really trying not to use the word crazy, but can I please use the word crazy, because that line of thinking is incredibly remarkable.


	7. Who is Real?

**June 27** **th** **(Day 2, Night)**

Shang sits on the bed with his elbows on his knees and his chin lain over his crossed fingers, deep in thought as the darkness surrounds him. _She will tell you when she's ready._ "Tell me what? I already know Ping isn't real. What else could she have to tell me?" He stands, defeated, and walks out of the room. He travels down the hall to the training room, but when he realizes he doesn't have his sword he journeys back. Shang walks into the guestroom and is surprised to see Grandmother Fa holding his sword horizontally in her hands.

"Looking for this." Shang doesn't respond, so she slices the air with it. "You know, I was pretty good at handling a sword in my day." She places it in her hands again before holding it up and out. "It's a little heavier than I remember, but I think I could still take you if I had the chance." Shang comes nearer in hopes of taking the sword back, but Grandmother Fa holds it vertically up before pointing it slightly towards him. "Don't underestimate my grandson again."

"What?" _I thought he was a she._

"My granddaughter, Mulan. Don't underestimate her again."

Shang slightly laughs through the embarrassment, but then he realizes she's still holding the sword. He pretends to clear his throat, "Don't worry. I won't underestimate her again."

She tilts the sword back to its horizontal position before handing it back to him, "Good, because if I see my grandson cry again it will be your head." She begins to stride away.

 _What?_ "That wasn't even my fault."

"We have to blame someone." She exits the room.

Shang places a hand to his head, trying to clear his thoughts, before he exits the room with the sword. He walks into the training room and sees Fa Zhou. _What is he doing in here? He has a cane. He can't fight anymore._

Fa Zhou moves closer, "I have a question for you."

"What is it?"

Fa Zhou has his cane out in front with both hands placed over it. "Do you have feelings for Ping?" Shang is shocked by this and almost says no, until he remembers Ping is Mulan— a woman.

"I don't know." He uncomfortably scratches the side of his face. "I don't know him— her— well enough yet." _Why does everyone keep calling her Ping?_

Fa Zhou steps forward, his eyes stern. "If you do, then don't give her hope. She needs a real man, not just some confused soul pretending to be one."

Shang shakes his head adamantly and opens his mouth to defend himself, but when his eyes open he finds Mulan's father had already disappeared. _Is everyone in this family crazy?_ Shang steps out into the hall once again, so he can go back to the guestroom and sleep but then is stopped by Fa Li.

"I hope you know what you're getting yourself into."

"What do you mean?" _What does any of this mean?_

"Mulan isn't a proper woman. She brings dishonor to this house nearly every day. If you marry her, just know you will have an imperfect wife."

Shang shakes his head, "That doesn't matter to me."

Fa Li takes a judging breath, "Well, it should." and walks away.

Shang stands still for a few minutes as he tries to calm down and clear through his thoughts. When he enters the guestroom again he sees a figure. He steps closer, "Who are you?"

"It's me." Hearing the voice relaxes Shang, and he puts down the sword.

"What are you doing in here?" He reaches the center of the room.

"I had a question for you."

"What is it?"

The figure separates into two beings, "Who is real?" On Shang's right is Mulan, and on his left is Ping. It doesn't take long for Shang to walk up to Mulan.

"You. You're real." He touches her sad face, but it is intangible and when a tear falls to her cheek she disappears.

"I thought you knew me better." Shang turns around to see the tear mimicked on Ping's face.

Ping turns around to leave, but Shang yells, "Wait. I— I love you."

Ping stands sturdy and attempts to strongly comment, "You can't love someone who isn't real." but his voice cracks towards the end, forcing him to run out to avoid further fault and embarrassment.

Shang looks down to the floor in shame. _I should have known._ When he looks back up he's surprised to see Grandmother Fa standing with the sword.

"I told you not to make my grandson cry." She walks closer.

Shang takes a few steps back, "I— I didn't mean to. I thought he was a she."

The grandmother nods as she comes closer, "I told you she would tell you when she was ready. Now, he has told you, but you underestimated him."

Shang holds up his arms and sees the sword slash through the air, before he wakes up in bed. He pants in worry and confusion, but once he realizes it was only a dream he calms down a bit. He stands from the bed and takes out his sword before heading to the training room. He walks in, surprised. "Ping?" He shakes his head, "Mulan. What are you doing in here?"

Mulan rubs her neck uncomfortably, "Training." She gives an awkward smile.

Shang wonders why she's wearing not only the training-robe but also the male hairstyle, however he ignores it. "You're injured. You shouldn't even be in here. What if someone sees you?"

"I don't care what anyone thinks anymore." It was a lie, but she knows that she's not going to be able to stop being herself just because of that. "Why are you awake so early?"

"I just didn't sleep well." _That was one messed up nightmare._

Mulan smirks, "Let me guess, bad dreams?"

Shang partly smiles, "You could say that."

Mulan's smirk falters, "Well. You know." before she leans on the bamboo staff. "Just pour some tea on it and everything will be fine."

Shang watches as Mulan's eyes roll to the ceiling in irritation, "You're still upset about that."

She straightens up, "Well, it wouldn't be a problem— I mean, I'm still irritated that my mother almost convinced Father that it was actually working, just because I was being quiet and calm like a good girl should be— but with the war and everything, I'm just waiting for it to be brought back up. You know what they say: if it doesn't work, then try, try again." She looks at the floor, "And since the war happened, I just know Father might be willing to give it another chance." She shuts her eyes briefly, as she brings a hand up in acknowledgement, "Sorry, if I'm a little emotional. I'm kind of exhausted."

"Did you have a nightmare too?" Shang asks with slight concern.

She looks away for a moment, "Yeah. I did." before gazing back at him with a certain lack of emotion. "What was yours about?"

Shang laughs off the memory, "You know, I don't really remember."

Mulan stares blankly, "Yeah. Neither do I."

Shang takes a step forward, "You know, my offer still stands."

Mulan shakes her head, "What offer exactly?"

"The one I made after you told me you were left-handed, that if you need to confide in someone I'm here for you. You can tell me anything."

Mulan takes a tired breath, "Weren't we already kind of doing that?"

Shang takes another step, "Well, no offense, but considering the circumstances something tells me I got more out of it than you did."

"Oh! Circumstances," Mulan leans on the pole again, this time with a wide smile. "Tell me General, what circumstances are we talking about here?" Shang places a hand on the back of his neck, trying and failing to come up with anything that wouldn't be potentially lies, offensive, or both. Mulan takes a step forward, "Is this the part where you tell me that I deceived you, that I made everyone look like fools." She laughs, "Because I was under the impression that aside from my name and sex that I had been relatively honest— no." She takes another small step forward, "I was more than honest." and continues making those steps. "The tea thing was true. My father's disappointment in me was true. Even the very personal discomfort I felt over my body." She prods Shang's chest with the end of the stick, "It was all true." Now only inches apart, she sees Shang smile. "What?"

 _You're cute when you're angry._ He removes the pole from his chest, "You're right. If all of those things are true, then you were more honest than you needed to be. Which raises a question." He places his other hand over where Mulan's still remains on the training tool, "Is Ping or Mulan more real?"

Mulan slips her hand off of the tool and out of his grasp, before she takes a step back and turns away from him. She brings a hand to her other arm before timidly replying, "You've known me for three years. What do you think?"

"I only knew Ping."

"But this Ping," she twists back around, "did he seem real to you?"

Shang softly answers, "You know he was."

She looks down as she twists her sleeves, "And Mulan." She looks back up to see his expression, "What do you think of her?"

Shang takes a moment to think about the small amount of time he's known Mulan and what his impression of her had been, but he can't help but find it a little odd. "It's just really odd," he lets slip. He looks over his soldier, "When I look at you all I can still see is Ping."

"Well, I am wearing the attire," Mulan surmises.

"No. It's not just that," Shang comments confidently with a step forward. "It's everything. You're still the same: you have the same personality, and you have the same thoughts." He takes another step forward, "You are the same person, and as far as I'm concerned that's a good thing."

Mulan mumbles, "My mother would disagree."

"I don't care what your mother thinks," Shang nearly yells, but then he closes his for a moment as his head bends down to the side. "And it doesn't matter what I think either." He looks back at her, "Only you can know who you truly are."

"No," Mulan softly disagrees. "It doesn't matter what I think." She attempts to smile, as she feels tears begin to sting her eyes, "I have duties. I am to be married, and even if it means possibly living a life of lies, I am still obligated to do it."

"You shouldn't have to," Shang stresses.

"But unless I wish my family to be homeless, then I must." Mulan sees his confusion, "You may still only see me as Ping, but legally I am no man. I can't own property. I must be married."

Shang hesitates, "I know women are typically married young and that your family must be pressuring you to do it as soon as possible, but your father is still relatively young. You still have time. Can't you just wait a little longer, just so you can find someone who understands and is okay with you?"

Mulan widens her eyes, "And who exactly could possibly be okay with this."

Shang watches Mulan gesture to her apparel. _I would be._ He opens his mouth to speak, but it takes a minute for him to whisper, "Someone. Someone has to be."

"Even if there were someone," Mulan looks away in agitation before taking a slow, deep breath. "There is no time." She looks back at Shang, "Whoever I marry, it has to be sooner rather than later."

Shang shakes his head, still seemingly confused, "But your father—"

"My father is ill," Mulan interrupts.

"What?" Shang questions.

Mulan feels her eyes become warm, "He's ill. He's been ill. You didn't notice?"

Shang bypasses the question, knowing that he probably should have known. There had to have been signs, but Fa Zhou is a legend. He couldn't possibly have been sick, but then again any warrior is still only human. "How long?"

Mulan blinks, "It had gotten worse right before I took his place." and then she feels a couple tears fall to her cheeks. She wipes them away with her sleeves, "I was afraid he wouldn't survive long if he went. I was afraid that if he didn't, then I wouldn't be married in time to take care of our family."

Shang unsurely asks, "How much longer does he have?"

Mulan shakes her head, "I don't know, Shang. It could be a year. It could be another three, but I really don't know. He doesn't seem any worse than before, but then again I didn't ask." She takes an unsteady breath, "All I know is that the tea he has been ordered to drink, it's only meant to reduce pain. No one talks about it, but we all know it's not going to make him any better."

Shang places a hand on her shoulder, "I'm sorry."

Mulan gulps, "So am I. I wish I could do something, anything, but there's nothing I can do. I'm nothing but a failure."

"No," Shang calmly states, before Mulan looks back up at him. "You are strong and smart."

Mulan solemnly smiles, "It doesn't matter how strong or smart I am if I can't save my family."

It takes a moment for Shang to respond, "You can worry about your family later. For now, let's just get you out of here. You're still injured."

Mulan lets out a small breath, "Right." before she allows Shang to guide her out of the room.

* * *

\- So, a lot changed after editing. I added so much actually that I wouldn't be surprised to find errors, but if there are then they can be found when I edit it again later. Hopefully the next edit will be the last one, taking place after the story's actually finished. Anyway, changes include a longer scene, where in this version Mulan mentions that her father is ill, it's established that they've spoken to each other about each other's issues before (so they aren't just strangers), and Shang isn't confused about Mulan although he may still be confused about himself and his feelings. In the earlier version he couldn't wrap his mind around her dressing as a guy even though she's physically female, but as that no longer correlates with where the story went about 30 chapters from now and since there seemed to be little progression in that regard it seemed more realistic for him to just still see Mulan as Ping, as that's who he knew them as for a full three years.

\- Also, if someone finds it confusing that Mulan's reasons for going to the war seem to change, it is possible to have more than one reason for doing something. Actually, having multiple reasons for doing something risky makes it more likely for someone to take that risk. So, in the end it is possible that she went because she wanted to keep her father alive, her family off the streets, and also because of some subconscious desire to go fight in her father's place as any other son would have done for their ill, weak, or elderly father. Let's just take a moment and be thankful that Mulan was so horrible at being the traditional bride and "proper" woman/wife, because if she had been engaged then she may not have been able to go to war even if she wanted to.


	8. The Simple Side of Things

**June 28** **th** **(Early Morning, Day 3)**

Shang and Mulan sit on the white stone bench below the magnolia tree. The nearby pond remains still, as wispy, grey clouds float under the sparkling stars. Crickets chirp slowly as the frogs croak the beat of nature's song. Mulan lets out a calming breath, "You were right. Some fresh air is exactly what I needed." She places the back of her hand to her mouth, as she yawns. "Sorry."

Shang smiles, "For yawning?"

Mulan looks down at the wet grass, "Supposedly, it's impolite."

"What?" Shang questions. "That's like saying belching is impolite."

"That," Mulan giggles, "I do kind of agree with."

"Is that so?" Shang asks. "You didn't seem very bothered by it at the camp." He raises a hand to his chin, "Actually, if my memory serves right, you even participated in it a couple of times."

Mulan lets out a breath, "Well, I shouldn't have. I was terrible at it."

"But you still did it."

"Only because there weren't any girls around." She sees Shang give her a look that seems to ask if that included her, but she ignores it as she explains, "With guys burping is like a competition to see who is more manly. It's like a power thing, but with girls they just find it gross."

"Do you find it gross?"

The questions had been immediate and sincere, but it was still off-putting. Mulan pauses, "As with anything, it has its limits. I find it annoying if it happens too much." Shang nods but doesn't speak, which leaves Mulan to stare at the grass the moon has turned blue-green.

Shang hears her sigh, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." _Or maybe everything?_ "It's just that nothing ever really changes." _The grass may look blue tonight, but in the morning it will be as green as it's always been._ She shakes her head, "It's been three years since I left." before laughing sadly. "When I came back I thought things would be different, but nothing has really changed."

"Yes, they have." Mulan looks up at Shang. "You have changed."

Mulan thinks about how strong, smart, and independent she had become over the years. _But it means nothing._ "My family doesn't seem to notice." _Because it is nothing._ "When I left they were focused on getting me married, and now that I returned they still are, probably even more than before." A cricket chirps through the second of silence. "Time won't change that."

"And there wouldn't be enough time for you to change that," Shang realizes.

"Right," Mulan softly responds, her head tilted down. "There wouldn't be."

Shang readjusts his seating on the cold bench, "So, do you not want to be married, then?"

 _Do I want to dress up in colorful fabrics and serve a man? No._ "Do I want love? Yes." She stares at the white stone bridge for strength. "I know it doesn't normally work like that, though."

"So," Shang drags, "You don't want to be married?"

"I don't know what I want," Mulan dismisses. "What I do know is that I have an obligation to do it, and if I do have to do it I at the very least wish it could be with someone who actually cares."

It takes a moment for Shang to gather his words, "Arranged marriages, they can turn out okay. I mean, my parents had a relatively good relationship."

"Okay," Mulan accepts. "Let's say that somehow the guy I'm married to just so happens to be okay with the way I behave, the way I dress, and the mere fact that I've become this 'war hero'." She lets out the breath she had held, "Like you said, I'm still injured. It will leave a scar."

"So?"

"So," Mulan explains, "Women are supposed to be perfect like a porcelain doll, beautiful."

"You are beautiful," Shang lets out, and although he feels a bit embarrassed about letting he own feelings out he resists the urge to reach for the back of his neck.

Mulan looks away, "I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse."

"I'm sorry," Shang comments, "but it's true. Any guy would be lucky to be with you."

 _I doubt that._ She turns back to him with disbelieving eyes, "You think so?"

"Well, of course." Shang feels his face get warmer, "You're a very remarkable person."

"Of course," Mulan repeats in a downward whisper, before she abruptly turns back to Shang. "May I ask you something?"

"What is it?" Shang replies with hesitance.

"It's just—" Her eyes move away for a moment, before she finds the courage to speak about the seemingly odd behavior. "At the camp you said things, things that seemed a little out of place. You also seemed to behave differently around me than you did the others." _Or so Mushu said._ She sees Shang turn away from her completely, his back facing her, "I thought I was just reading into it too much, but you arrived here shortly after I did." She pauses when she sees his head tilt downward and hesitates to speak further, "I don't believe you only came here to deliver a message."

Shang lets out stressed breath before fiercely turning back around, "You think I was acting weird? What about you? You flirting with me, saying how great of a captain I was."

Mulan calmly responds, "That seems more like a compliment than flirting." her tiredness causing his clear passive aggressive response to come off as a bit boring.

"It wasn't what you said." Shang insists, "It was how you said it." He takes another deep breath before releasing it, "You say I was acting weird, but if I was acting weird it was only because you were the one that started acting weird first." He places a hand to his forehead and leans his elbow on his leg, as another breath escape him, this one containing more distress than anything, "You just made me so confused. You don't even know how much."

Mulan looks away as she murmurs, "You must have been relieved when you found out I was really just a girl."

Shang nods, "I was." before he looks at her. "That is, until I found out you wanted to be Ping all the time. A woman who just so happens to be good with a sword? Sure. But this?" He lets his arm fall down over his legs, before he shakes his head, "It's just made me confused all over again."

It takes a moment for Mulan to slowly state, "I never said—"

"Don't deny it. I heard you speaking to your grandmother." He watches Mulan's eyes downcast, "All I would ever want is for you to be happy, but even if you like me as I suspect you do, I'm afraid I may be too confused to like either or you. I mean, if we were married who would I be married to? Would you be a girl, a guy— or both?"

"You would be married to me," Mulan asserts.

Shang gives you a look, "And who would that be? Who are you?"

Mulan looks back down and whispers, "I don't know."

"Exactly." Shang gives her a serious, yet supportive look, "Maybe before asking me if I like you, you should figure out who you are first."

Several chirps and croaks of crickets and frogs can be heard, before Mulan softly responds, "I don't know how to do that." She looks up at him, "All I've ever done is either deny or hide how I feel, and even if I do figure it out I doubt my family would be okay with it."

"That makes both of us," Shang empathizes.

"So, Ping is the one you like," Mulan infers. "Does that mean I don't have to worry then? You know, if I did decide I'd rather be him."

"You've already decided," Shang reminds her. "What matters here is that you do what makes you happy. You can figure out who you are by testing out a few things a day. If they make you happy, then continue them. If they don't, then stop those things. As far as the Ping thing goes…" He looks away for a moment, "It would almost be easier for you to be Mulan instead. I don't know if I'd have the courage to face my family otherwise."

"You would be embarrassed of me," Mulan concludes.

"No!" Shang grabs hold of her hand in reassurance, "It wouldn't be for embarrassment of you." He tilts his head down and eyes the ground. "It would be because of the shame I would feel for myself."

Mulan shuts her eyes hard for a second, "Shang. You're so concerned about me being happy, and you want me to take that risk, but don't you deserve to be happy to? Don't you want to take that same risk yourself?"

"No." Shang looks back up at her, "Because I could probably be happy either way."

She whispers, "Then what's the issue? If you could be happy either way, then what's keeping you from being with Ping?"

"The issue is," Shang states, "if I can really be happy either way, then there's less drama with marrying a girl than there is with being with a guy. It's just—"

"You don't have to explain. I get it. You're confused, and you need time to figure it out."

"Right. Exactly," Shang confirms, but then he pauses. "There is, however, something else you should know."

Mulan sees his unsureness, "Oh, no. What is it?"

"It's just—" He rubs the back of his neck, "You should know that at the camp after we… started to get weird with each other—" He looks at her, "You forced me to confront a part of myself I had been denying. Up until that point I had convinced myself it was normal to find people attractive regardless of gender but that it just mustn't be acted upon." He looks down for a second in thought, "Ping was the first guy I let myself fall for, and I fought it every step of the way. Even now, there's a part of me that's convinced that it's wrong, that it's dishonorable, and I don't know if it will go away."

Mulan holds her hands together, "It's not like you would be running off with some guy, never to be married or have children. I'm expected to do those things too, and so long as the terms of a 'normal' marriage are met I fail to see how you would be dishonoring anybody."

"There would still be people who would say it's wrong," He points out. It's quiet for a minute, as Mulan doesn't dispute this fact, so Shang has to interrupt the silence, "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about something else?"

"I'm glad you told me," Mulan comments, "but we did come out here to relax. Perhaps we can talk about something more simple, even trivial?"

"Like what?"

"Well," Mulan acknowledges, "after all of this time I still don't know your favorite color."

Shang looks away. _Something simple, huh?_ "That's because I don't have one." He looks back at her, "Color just isn't very important to me."

"Even so, you must have some kind of idea of which ones you like better. So, if you had to choose, which would it be?"

"The cape of my uniform is red. That's go with that." He sees her questioning expression and continues, before she can speak. "What's your favorite color?"

"Oh. Mine?" Mulan touches the trim of her robe, "It's green."

Shang nods, "That makes sense."

Mulan gives him a curious look, "How so?"

"Well, that's the color you wear most often, isn't it?"

"I mean, yes," Mulan confirms, "but you've only seen me wear a couple different things."

Shang stares out at the sky, pretending that he hadn't just heard the flaw in his statement of which Mulan had just brought up, "It's late, and I was planning on leaving in the morning."

"You're leaving?" Mulan questions. "I thought it would be another day or two."

"No," Shang states. "I've stalled long enough. I need to see how my family took the news, and I know my mother will be furious that I didn't go straight home. Prolonging my stay here would only make things worse, but I promise I will return as soon as I can. My stay back home should only be a week to a month. You have nothing to worry about."

"I don't know," Mulan says unsurely. "A day is a long time around here."

Shang places a hand on her shoulder, "You survived a war. You can survive this."

* * *

After Shang and Mulan say goodbye for the night she goes back into her room. Inside, Mushu stands on the bed with his arms crossed, "Where have you been?"

Mulan holds a hand to her other arm, "Ah, I— I just went to get some fresh air."

"Ah-hm. So, you weren't outside with Shang surrounded by romantic scenery?"

"How did you—"

"Cri Kee filled me in on all the juicy details." He motions to her outfit, "I was not told about this, though. Please, tell me, you didn't wear this on your romantic date with Shang."

"It wasn't a date. We just talked." Mulan looks over the clean outfit. _What's wrong with it?_

"Of course, it wasn't a date. You're dressed as Ping! He isn't going to want to date Ping you." Mushu turns from mad and confused to sad and disappointed, "This was your chance to get a guy you like and to honor your family." His hands tighten in stress, "Are you even going to try to honor your family anymore?"

Mulan quotes something that Shang had said for comfort, when they had entered the house, "You can't honor your family by pretending to be something you're not very good at." Mushu silences. "Shang suggested starting my day early to avoid arguments. May you turn around, so I can change?"

"Fine." He tears up. "Just know that I only want what's best for me— you."

Mulan rolls her eyes. _Right. You're doing this for me, but I bet if I told you Shang wanted me to be happy and just be who I really am, then you still wouldn't be very supportive._ "I heard that."

"Heard what?"

"That correction you made at the end. If you're going to pretend you're doing this for me, then you can at least not slip up like that."

"But I am doing this for you," the dragon sadly insists. "If you don't get Shang, then you don't have a husband, and then the ancestors won't like me anymore."

Mulan ignores that dragon's crying, "That's still about you. If you really cared about me, then you'd just do what my mother does and tell me that if I don't get a husband I'd be condemning us all to the streets."

Mushu stops crying, before he huffs, "Huh. You think I don't care about you. At least I care about you more than her. She only tells you that because she's afraid of what will happen to her."

"I know it was a bad example," Mulan acknowledges, "but my point still stands. If you're doing something for me, then you should worry a little more on my happiness and a little less on what the ancestors will think of you."

"But I was thinking of you. Surely having a husband and having Shang be that husband would make you happy."

Mulan shakes her head as she finishes putting the blue dress on, "You won't understand this, Mushu. I don't expect you to, but I've accepted that no matter how well things go for me that I may never be able to be happy." _Because no matter how much things may change, my body will always remain the same._

* * *

\- Let me apologize for any possible mistakes. I haven't been rereading my edited work, as I know I will have to reread and edit it again when the entire thing is finished and I don't want to be even more bored than I already was this time. This chapter had so much redone that I actually had to create a clipboard document, where I would put the paragraphs or scenes that would be cut out. I do this as reference and also because it takes me so long to finish a chapter I can't bear to scrap an entire one; therefore, I saved it.

\- Changes in this chapter make it so that it's not such a peaceful scene anymore, so if you think a name change for the chapter is necessary then I will try to think of another. In the first version Shang was still confused about Mulan, gave her advice on figuring out who she is, and they also had some covert flirting and asked each other vague questions looking for a specific response (like Mulan had asked how long it would take for someone to get to know her, but she had actually been referring to Shang and he knew that). In this edited version obviously that didn't happen. You probably won't be very surprised by this, but Shang has had some internalized homophobia which was literally about to get addressed in the last chapter I wrote; however, I stopped writing the scene before I got there... That's like 50 chapters away. It might seem like a long ways away, but with an estimation of about 3 or sometimes 5 document pages per chapter it really shouldn't take that long for you to get there... You know, once that chapter gets posted. Anyway, because it takes so long for it to get there, I've decided to hint at his homophobia in this chapter... I'm not sure if it's just a past thing or if it's ongoing, but we'll see on the way there!


	9. Goodbye

**June 28** **th** **(Day 3, Late Morning)**

Mulan sits within a new field of green and hides between the barley stocks, but somehow Shang manages to find her. She smiles, "Hey, General."

Shang looks around the new field, "It would seem you get more done alone."

Mulan shrugs, "I don't know about that. My thoughts can be really intrusive." She notices the progress she has made. "Apparently, I try to push them out through hard work."

Shang nods, "That's understandable." Mulan takes a break from weeding when she sees his sad frown. "My father used to train three times a day after he would get home from a recent war."

"I'm sorry for what happened." She takes a sip of water from the water-skin.

Shang smiles, "I know you are. That's why I'm glad to still have you after everything that's happened." He sees Mulan solemnly smile. "I can only imagine how my family is handling this."

"However they are, it will turn out okay." She sees Shang's doubt. "It just has to be."

He nods, "Time changes everything." before smiling. "Your grandmother gives the best advice."

Mulan laughs, "Yes, she does. Sometimes I wonder how she knows so much."

Shang slightly shrugs, "Experience is the best knowledge there is."

"I guess that's true." She shuts her eyes for a second. "I just don't understand how she knows things she isn't told and didn't see."

Shang thinks about how she knew he was in the training room. _Did she see me hide in there? She did know I was listening._ "Maybe we just don't notice she does."

"Perhaps." Mulan continues weeding, but she turns back every few seconds to see his face. "How far away is your village?"

"It's actually only a few up to the north."

Mulan turns with a hopeful smile upon her face, "How long until you leave?"

Shang's face darkens, and he hesitates to say, "I should actually be heading out now." He sees Mulan's smile drop. "I want to arrive before nightfall. I would stay, but—"

"It's fine." Mulan turns back to the weeds. "Family is important." She pulls at them somewhat aggressively and with speed. "You should see how they are."

Shang hesitates, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" She continues tearing the weeds from the ground, their roots exposed, and doesn't let Shang answer her question. "If you have to leave, then leave." She turns around with earnest, sad eyes, "Just, please, don't take too long."

"Will you be okay?" Shang feels like walking nearer to her, but he doesn't.

Mulan turns back around to the weeds, feeling the salty droplet about to escape her eye. "I'll be fine. Just go... I know how much family matters to you... You should see how they are."

Shang sincerity replies, "I will be back."

Mulan remarks, "I know you will." but doesn't turn around to reveal her tear-soaked cheek.

Shang questions if he should say anything else, but the silence is tense so he doesn't. Instead he walks back across the fields, twisting his head back to see her; however, the landscape is all he can see.

Mulan stays hidden beneath the stalks. _Everything is back to the way it was before._ She continues to pull at the weeds to keep her memories at bay, but she cannot help but compare the last few years to the time she's spent here. Mulan feels more salt cover her face as she desperately tries to clear the green from the field. _I don't know if I can handle another month. I don't want to go back to it. I can't._ She pauses momentarily. _"If they make you happy, then continue them. If they don't, then stop those things...You can't honor your family by pretending to be something you're not very good at."_ Mulan whispers, "If it doesn't make you happy, don't do it. That's easier said than done." as she continues to weed. _Not five minutes later I had put a dress on._ After another breath and some more hard word her thoughts move to the conversation with Mushu. _"Just know that I only want what's best for me— you." He sounds just like my father, except a little more full of himself._ Mulan strangles the weeds as she pulls them. _Why can't they just pay attention and see who I am? "Who are you?"_

Shang's previous question angers her even more. _"I don't know."_ Mulan weeds faster as she remembers his instruction to test out things each day to see what makes her happy. _As if it's that easy._ _What could I do? Dress in the attire? Mushu wouldn't react well... Train? I'm injured... Ride the horse? Where? To the village? That's out of the question._ She shakes her head in frustration. _How am I supposed to come up with three things? I can barely think of one!_

Mulan stays lost in her thoughts, until she hears footsteps. _Shang?_ She turns around hopeful, but her smile slips when she only sees her grandmother, "Oh. Hi." Mulan takes a deep breath. _How did she know I was here?_ She remembers Shang. _How does everyone keep finding me?_

Grandmother Fa gives a nod, "Don't you think the basket is full enough?"

Mulan notices her left hand placing a strangled weed on top of the overflowing basket. "Oh. Right." She pretends to laugh, "Baskets get full when you put things in them." She pushes the weeds down to make more room before gathering the fallen ones.

Her Grandmother smiles sweetly, "What's bothering you, dear?"

Mulan remains sitting as the cold air wraps itself around her, "It's nothing." She bends her head down, "It's just that now Shang's gone." She laughs but feels like crying, "I don't want things to go back the way they were before." Mulan looks up to see her grandmother nod in understanding.

"Things can be difficult, but they always change. Nothing stays the same forever."

Mulan stands up and feels a warm ray of sun cover her face, "Shang said he would come back. It's just that he was the last tie I had to my time in the army, and I'm afraid that now he's gone— I'm afraid everyone is just going to act like it never happened and expect me to live a lie."

Her grandmother takes a couple steps closer, "Things will get easier."

Mulan remembers her mother's comment when she was younger. _"You'll get used to it."_ Mulan knows that's not what her grandmother is trying to say, but it still hurts to hear. "Things never get easier." She sits back down in the shadows near the basket of weeds. "Things just keep getting harder and harder, and I don't know if I can ignore it anymore." She gulps, "I can't keep living like this."

"You won't have to." Mulan looks up and greets her grandmother's sad, solemn look with a tear. "Or at least, not all the time. It will take time, but things will turn out fine in the end."

Mulan shakes her head. _This isn't right._ "I don't want things to end fine: I want things to just be fine and stay that way." She takes a stressed breath, "Is that too much to ask?"

"It doesn't seem like a lot, but we must believe that things happen for a reason."

Mulan stands, but since the red sunset hides behind several clouds, she remains as cold as the hard soil she'd been sitting on. "I've been telling myself that for a while now, but it just doesn't seem to work like it used to." Her grandmother remains silent, unsure of what else could be said. Mulan grabs the basket and they go back to the house.

When they enter the dining room Mulan gets a condescending look from her mother, before she even sets the basket down next to the fireplace. "There you are." Mulan can tell her mother is about to say more, probably dealing with sitting down for a lecture or cooking dinner, so she hurries into the hallway. Grandmother Fa sees her granddaughter sluggishly enter her room as Fa Li judges, "That wasn't very polite." She looks at her husband. "Do you still believe your daughter is trying?" He doesn't respond and only stays silent as he takes a sip of tea.

Grandmother Fa sits down, "She only needs time."

Fa Li comments with scorn but remains respectful by avoiding direct eye contact. "She needs more than that. She needs a husband." She refills everyone's teacups. "She needs to learn how to act like a woman, beg the matchmaker for forgiveness, and bear her husband children."

Fa Zhou sees his mother's thoughtful look before responding, "I'm not sure if being a woman is something that can be taught." He takes another sip of tea. "A cricket is not taught to be a cricket."

Fa Li glares down at her tea, "No. A cricket is born a cricket, just as women are born women. Mulan is a woman. She should at least be able to walk with one foot in front of the other, instead of marching around wearing her dishonor like a medal." Fa Li shakes her head, "If she can't even walk like a woman, how is she supposed to be an honorable bride?"

Mulan listens to the conversation, leaning her ear just slightly past the doorframe. The wrinkled, white cloth keeps her face hidden from view. She hears her father's comment, "If one may know how to conquer without being able to do it, then she can be an honorable bride without knowing how." Mulan smiles, thankful that her father has confidence in her, but her smile slips when she realizes she doesn't even have confidence in herself. _"You may look like a bride, but you will never bring your family honor!" It's been three years. Why can't I just forget it already?_ Mulan huffs, annoyed.

Fa Zhou smiles, glad his memory still remains even though his body has weakened; however, he changes his expression when he sees the anger in his wife's eyes. She states, "This is not war. We are talking about the duties of the people in this house. Mulan refuses to act accordingly, and we must do something about it."

Fa Zhou replies with nonchalance, "If you are so worried about the way she walks, why don't you teach her how to be a woman." He smiles, "Since you believe she was born with it and can be taught to act accordingly."

Fa Li takes a breath to calm herself down, but it does nothing. "This isn't a joke. This is a real problem that will have real consequences if not dealt with properly." She refocuses as she pours everyone a cup of the nearly forgotten tea.

Fa Zhou takes a sip, "I realize this isn't a joke. I am being serious. If you believe that woman are born woman and can be taught to act accordingly, then why not teach her?" He takes another sip of the lukewarm tea. "She isn't going to figure it out on her own. If she could, she would have done it by now." He sees his wife's strange expression. "If you think she can be taught, then teach her."

Fa Li comments with disdain and frustration, "She isn't going to try, so why should I bother."

Mulan stops listening. She's glad that her mother isn't going to try to teach her how to act accordingly, but she's also upset that her mother doesn't believe she'd been trying. _Have I been trying?_

Mulan puts one foot in front of the other and slowly continues with the other. Mushu comments, "What are you doing?" His question is dealt with both curiosity and awkward disgust.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Mulan continues to awkwardly put one foot in front of the other and does it faster as she grows impatient. "This is how women are supposed to walk, right?"

Mushu responds in a long, "Yes." unsure of why the question had to even be asked. He squirms and pulls his arms to his chest, as he watches Mulan trip. "They don't normally do that though."

Mulan sits on the wooden floor with her legs up to her chest, "My mother doesn't think I'm even trying." She watches as Mushu jumps off the bed and climbs up to her knees.

He sits and swings a leg back and forth. "Well, are you?"

Mulan scrunches her eyebrows in disbelief, "Of course I am."

"Are you sure?" He becomes still, afraid of how Mulan could react to the conversation. "You wore the training-robe last night, you're still binding, and you aren't trying to impress Shang."

"Well, Shang left, so I won't have to worry about impressing him for at least a week." _Not that I could impress him the way he thinks._ Mulan looks across the floor and at the mirror. She observes her partial reflection; half sad, a quarter angry, and a quarter disgusted she comments, "You don't know what it's like to be forced to look in the mirror every day and see a stranger." She looks back at Mushu as a tear falls to her cheek, before she sadly smiles, "Many times when I look in the mirror I don't even realize it's me, but then when I realize it is—" She notices Mushu's look. The one he's giving can turn into any expression, and if it's bad she doesn't want to see it. She turns away. "You don't know what it's like to be seen as someone else and to be expected to act as such, when you hardly even know how to."

She turns to see Mushu's sad, contemplating look as he comments, "It can't be that bad." He hears Mulan take a frustrated breath. "Everyone has to act and dress the part. No one looks in the mirror and sees who they really are. You're no different. You just haven't learned how to push through it yet." He gives a slight smile, but Mulan keeps her head turned. "Don't worry. I'll get you through this."

"Yeah. Right." Mulan stands and Mushu falls onto the floor. He turns away, as Mulan begins to undress. She heads to bed wearing the cotton tank top and shorts, and as the sun sets she lets the darkness embrace her with an odd comfort.

* * *

\- My favorite line in here has to be that a cricket isn't taught to be a cricket. Not much to say for this chapter, and the only editing was small so there's nothing to say about that either. I'm so excited for the next chapter, though. In "Family Matters" you all get to be introduced to my favorite character Yong, an original character of my making. **Warning for Yong** : he may or may not be a nomad sociopath (someone with the antisocial personality disorder that also exhibits traits of the schizoid and avoidance personalities). Depression is also a thing with him, but I don't think it's very noticeable as he doesn't express it in the same way most people would think of it. Like crying. If I remember correctly, it's rare for him to cry. The depression is expressed more in that at times he exhibits hopelessness, his substance abuse increases, and although I haven't found a clear way to state it he does put himself in situations as if he wants the other person to hurt him. Oh yeah, the substance abuse. He's an alcoholic— a high functioning alcoholic... He also has some secrets that his family is unaware of, and you probably won't know them either until the chapter "When Secrets Kill". Sorry to say that's a little ways away, but man I'm so excited to be able to read his story again. It's going to be great... but I'm biassed. You may not end up liking his character as much as I do.


	10. Family Matters

**June 28** **th** **(Day 3, Dusk)**

Shang is stopped in front of the large, ornate gate. The young soldier smiles greatly, "Shang. Is that you? It's been such a long time."

Shang doesn't react to his little brother's excitement, but he steps off his horse anyway. "You're a guard now." His brother's expression contrasts the older soldier who remains emotionless.

"Yeah. Isn't it great? Elder Brother said that I learned enough literacy skills for now and that I should begin practicing soldier things more in case—" His expanded smile drops.

Shang comments, unaffected, "That's great. Here I thought you were going to just end up like those other guys you used to hang around: gambling, picking fights—" He sees his little brother quickly become anxious and awkward. "You haven't changed at all, have you Li Yong?" His brother only stays quiet in shame. "Okay, pipsqueak, open the gate so I can ask our brother why he hasn't been keeping you in line." There is only silence as the guards step aside and the gate is opened.

Shang walks the horse to the stable, before he makes his way to the family's dining room door. He hears his name mentioned and opens the door to see what's going on. The conversation stops, as his mother, sister, and older brother all look in his direction. They don't even react to his return, and the silence remains as they all continue to eat their rice-soup. Shang shuts the door behind him, but still nothing is said. "What's going on?" He sits down in his usual seat, relieved that it's still available after so much time has passed.

His mother and brother exchange glances as his sister, Li Li, looks briefly up from her tea. She stays quiet as she gracefully picks at her meal, but one hand remains free at all times. Shang's brother orders, "Li Li, pour our long lost brother some tea." She quickly and effortlessly puts down her chopsticks as her other hand has already reached the tea-pot, and she uses her newly freed hand to keep the lid on as she pours. "News travels fast. We expected you here days ago. Where have you been?"

Shang reaches for the warm, steamy tea and takes a sip, as Li Li continues with her own meal and stays quiet. "I was with one of my soldiers." He sees his mother face him with concern. "He got injured during the war, so I stayed with her—" He covers his mistake with a cough. "Excuse me. Sorry. I stayed with them for a few days to make sure they would be okay." He notices his sister's mild manner. "What's wrong with her?"

Shang's brother, Li Fu, takes a quick look at their calm sister, before returning to his dinner. "She's getting married soon. We have four proposals for her, and we don't want her to mess up when we finally choose one. Wives and stepdaughters are to be seen, not heard. She needs to learn and adapt to that concept, before her actions have a chance to ruin our futures."

"She's only thirteen." Shang looks over at his defenseless sister in shock and regret.

"Yes. I am aware that she could have gotten in more practice if we waited until she turned sixteen, but because of father's death she will have to secure her standings." He looks over at Shang in suspicion, "We all will."

Shang shakes his head, "There has to be more time. We need more time." He turns his head to his mother. "You can't possibly agree with this."

His mother doesn't lift her head and replies in a calm, respectful demeanor, "I actually think it's a great idea." She picks some vegetables from the soup and eats them. "I was married off at fifteen due to my father's untimely death. This is no different." She lifts her head and briefly looks in her son's fearful eyes. "I only want what's best for you." She lays her chopsticks down on the decorated bowl, before she stands and moves over to touch her confused son's shoulder for a short time.

He whispers, "What's that supposed to mean?" but his mother doesn't answer. She leaves the room, instructing Li Li to follow her down the long hallway, and so the brothers are left alone. There is silence as a maid comes in and takes away what's left behind, but soon enough she leaves as well. Shang reimagines those few moments in his head; his mother's concern, the brief eye contact, and the short touch. _I only want what's best for you._ Shang whispers, "What did she mean?"

Li Fu answers through the awkward silence, "She's just concerned, but I wouldn't worry about it." He shrugs a smile and stands, "Come on. We have a lot to discuss."

Shang stands and follows him down the candle-lit hallway and through the sitting room, until they reach the study and each find a place to sit. The silence continues as Shang observes the one room he's never been allowed in before. It's nicely decorated and includes fine paintings. _Who am I to critique decorating? I've been at war for three years. Even a table seems like decoration to me now._ He shakes his head to forget the stupid thoughts, and from then on he ignores the decorations. He looks over at his older brother, who clearly has something on his mind.

The elder brother holds his hand to his mouth in thought, "So, tell me. Who's the lucky guy?" Li Fu sees shock and fear on his brother's face.

"What do you mean?" Shang fidgets in his chair and hopes the reworded question will make sense in a non-incriminating way.

The brother questions, smile still intact, "The soldier you visited. What's his name?"

"Oh, him." Shang tries to remain calm and still, "His name was Ping."

Li Fu's smile gets bigger as he awkwardly laughs, "Are you on a first-name basis with all of your soldiers?"

"No, actually. If I know their full names I try to stay formal, assuming that we're not currently being attacked." Shang shifts in his seat but tries not to give anything away by rubbing his neck or arm. "He's just the exception."

Li Fu can't help but keep wearing the awkward smile, "I see." He notices Shang about to open his mouth. "Come on little brother. Let's be serious for a moment." He struggles to drop the smile, but eventually does when he realizes what implications this may really have. "I'm all ears. You can tell me anything." He shifts his head. "Is there something you would like to tell me?"

Shang shrugs while releasing a frustrated breath, "There's nothing to tell."

Li Fu repositions himself in the chair, "So, you don't like this soldier of yours just a little too much, if you get what I mean?"

"No. I don't get what you mean." Shang almost throws his hands up in frustration. "What's going on? Why is everyone acting so weird and saying such things?"

His brother closes his eyes only for a second as he releases a calming breath, "We were all just concerned that you may end up like... some other people who liked to serve the army.

Shang shakes his head, "What do you mean?"

It takes a second for Li Fu to respond, "Our father. Mother has mentioned that he liked his soldiers a little too much."

Shang's jaw drops, "Really?"

His older brother squirms, uncomfortably, "Well... yeah. You don't— No one likes going off to war like he did. I mean, come on, haven't you ever thought there had to have been a reason?"

Shang shakes his head, "No. I didn't."

"Okay, well—" His brother lets out a calming breath as he shakes his head. "That's really not the point here." He lifts his head up. "I'm asking you, are your feelings for this soldier of yours more than just professional?"

"Does it really matter?" _They're not even really a guy anyway._

"Yes, it does." There's momentary silence as his brother takes another calming breath. "Look, if you're worried that I'll tell Mother, don't be. We don't have to mention anything to her."

"Okay, well then—" Shang clears his throat before taking a calming breath himself, "Are you talking about before or after I found out he was a girl?"

"What?" His brother seems taken aback by the information.

Shang smiles, "Yes. I like a girl. Is it really that surprising?" His brother doesn't speak. "It's getting late. I think I should get to sleep." He begins out the door. "My room is how I left it, isn't it?"

Li Fu can only reply with a single, "Yes." and is left alone with candle-lit shadows covering his work. He takes another breath. _It's worse than I thought._

* * *

\- Why is it worse if Ping's a girl? I don't know... Maybe because if Ping was a guy, then they'd be able to "work around" it, whereas if Ping is a girl that may mean Shang would have to marry some peasant who wouldn't be able to secure his standings? Little does the older brother know that Ping is a relatively safe choice, you know with that high class status and property and whatnot. Whatever. It's stupid, but since it's important to them it has to be in here. Shouldn't bother too many people, though, since their high class people back then are basically the equivalent to the low-middle class people that exist today. Not only that, but we're better because we have indoor plumbing... or at least most of us do. I'm just going to assume that if you're able to read this right now, then the area you live in is doing well enough to have indoor plumbing. No disrespect to anyone who doesn't have it. It's just that I would assume that in the 21st century everyone would have it, and if you don't then I'm just so sorry because that's so wrong. It's one thing to go camping in the woods for a weekend. It's another to have to live your whole life in potentially unsanitary conditions. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I know I mislead you a little in the last one when I said you'd meet Yong, but even though you still know almost nothing about him and even though it wasn't from his point of view, you still technically got to meet him. And now, you get to meet the ancestors! Yay?


	11. Grandmas, Dragons, and Ghosts

**June 28** **th** **(Day 3, Evening)**

Mushu leaves Mulan's room and heads his way to the ancestral temple. The sky is a mix of dark grey and steel blue. The trees' leaves rustle and the wind whispers a message peacefully over the landscape. The cold air wraps itself around Mushu and he shivers, before he uses his breath to heat the area around him. He makes it up the hill and sees Grandmother Fa in the temple.

Mushu hides behind one of the wooden beams but peaks out as he realizes what's going on. The eldest ancestor comments to Grandmother Fa, "We believe that by doing this Mulan will be forced to enact her position as a bride and find a husband. If we're lucky, she may even respect her role as such."

"No." Grandmother Fa remains calm but stubborn. "Her father's health is already at risk, and she still won't take this role we keep offering her." There is momentary silence, as even the crickets are quiet. "If my son's lack of health isn't making his child play the part they're supposed to, then my death certainly won't help. In fact, I believe it will only make things worse."

"Hmm." The head ancestor keeps his arms crossed but relaxes some. "You may have a point. We don't want her to run off again." He uncrosses his arms and gestures a hand towards her, "What do you propose we do, then?"

Grandmother Fa smiles with wisdom, "The general seems to have at least a small interest in Mulan. I hope that with enough maneuvering we can get them married."

The eldest ancestor questions, "How will convincing this general to marry a failure of a bride help keep Mulan from running away?"

"Mulan has already admitted to me that she likes him. It may not be as soon as we'd like, but there will be a marriage she won't want to run away from."

"I see... and how will she, being a crossdresser, affect this plan of yours?"

Mushu sees the grandmother smile, "General Li Shang is already aware of her unusual behavior, and I don't think he particularly minds. He seems more focused on the fact that she likes him more than anything else, and with their time in the army their compatibility is already assured."

"I see... hmm... I will let you follow through on this plan of yours, but you must make sure they get married." Grandmother Fa nods. "I also expect you to keep me updated."

She bows her head, "Of course, Great Ancestor."

Mushu begins to walk away but is stopped. "As for you—" He turns back around and sees the specter staring straight down at him.

Mushu walks forward and stands near Mulan's grandmother. He quivers in fear and of cold, "Yes, Great Ancestor?" The wind howls.

"How is Mulan doing these days?"

Mushu stammers, "How is she doing? Ah, she's fine."

The ancestor raises an eyebrow and comes closer to him, "Are you sure?"

Mushu laughs uncomfortably, "Ah, yeah." He's inspected even closer, resulting in him scratching the back of his neck in uncomfortableness. "I mean, she did have a weird dream the other night, but it's nothing to worry about."

"Nothing to worry about?" The ancestor floats a little back to have both of his subjects in view, "What was it about?"

He notices the grandmother's worried expression, before Mushu insists, "Nothing out of the ordinary, I promise." He laughs again. "It was just the usual type of dream." He sees the ancestor grow angry with impatience. Mushu breaks down in tears, "Okay, alright. In it her father stabbed her in the chest with a sword." He continues to cry, "Is that what you wanted to hear, Great Ancestor? I do my best. I really do, but this— It just came out of nowhere." He continues to cry.

The ancestor becomes annoyed but calms down, "Is that all, or would you like to say more?"

Mushu immediately stops crying and stands up, "Let me think here... Um, no... Nope... No." He smiles and his voice grows with excitement, "Oh, but in it she was seeing Shang, so the grandmother's right. Her plan will work." The wind blows through the temple.

"Let's hope so." The great ancestor relaxes and retreats back into his tombstone.

The small dragon and elderly woman remain silent as they follow the path down the hill and through the gardens, but when they're a safe distance away from the temple Grandmother Fa questions, "Why didn't you tell him?"

Mushu takes a second to reply, "Are you asking me why I didn't tell him the reason Mulan's father stabbed her in the dream, or why I didn't tell him Mulan was a man in her dream?" Grandmother Fa remains quiet. "Okay, alright. I didn't say anything, because I was worried that they'd think I wasn't doing my job as a guardian. If they knew I've been even remotely tolerating her behavior, then they'd probably give her to another guardian and make sure I couldn't see her again. Don't get me wrong. I like my pedestal, but without Mulan it's just not worth it."

Grandmother Fa comments, "It would probably be hard to explain the dream in its entirety to them as well." The leaves rustle in the grey landscape.

"You've got that right. I mean, how could I have explained it?"

"Well," Grandmother Fa comments in a wise, calm tone, "how would you have explained it to me?" Her smile remains unseen. "Just give it a try. Knowing how to say something to someone helps you understand the topic of discussion better yourself."

"Okay." Mushu takes a calming breath but remains frustrated, "Oh, where do I begin?"

"The beginning is always a good place to start," Grandmother Fa answers. "We still have a long trail to follow. If we continue to walk slowly, you could probably just tell me what she told you, word for word." There is momentary silence, but eventually Mushu begins the story, trying to remember exactly what Mulan had said to him. Grandmother Fa listens carefully, trying to piece together what her grandchild had confided in her since they got back. She remains calm and asks for clarification for some parts but otherwise does not let the dragon know she's fishing for information.

When they finally make it to the house Mushu comments, "I can't lose her. She's more than just a job to me. She's a friend, and she, me, and the cricket, we're family." His voice goes from soft and sad to loud and caring, "For crying out loud, we all shared a tent for three years. We ought to be close. I— I just can't lose her." He begins to cry again, "You won't tell them, will you? If they found out I haven't been watching her as often as I should, or that I still haven't tried to take away that army outfit she likes so much, they'd probably take both her and my pedestal away from me, and I don't think I could handle losing both of them. I just can't lose them, and I can't lose her. You won't say anything, will you?"

Grandmother Fa replies in a soft, ruff tone, "I won't say a word."

"Oh, thank you so much," Mushu cries on the hem of her dress. "Thank you, so much."

"Oh, don't thank me. You still need to come up with an excuse as to why you still haven't burned her training-robe to ashes." Mushu stops crying. "They will still have a pretty good view from up there no matter what we do."

"Right." Mushu stands tall, "I think I'm just going to check on Mulan. Do you need any help maintaining the fires tonight?"

Grandmother Fa smiles, "No. I'm going to put some more weeds into them before I go to bed, but you can check on Mulan's fireplace if you wish."

"Okay." They enter the house, but when they come into the dining room Fa Li is seen at the table.

Grandmother Fa helps keep Mushu from view and slowly walks him to the hallway. "How are you?" Mushu scurries into the hall, while Mulan's mother stares blankly at the constant tea.

She remarks, "Could be better."

Grandmother Fa nods, "I wish you luck." before she tends to the fire.

Fa Li shakes her head, "We tried that, remember, but even luck won't get Mulan married."

Weeds are tossed slowly into the fire, "Mulan will marry. It only takes time."

Fa Li huffs as she finishes the tea, "Time is a luxury we don't have." She gets up and gracefully leaves the room, her anger only noticeable by her quickened pace.

* * *

\- Yes. The grandmother can see the ghosts. You probably could figure it out, but how this works is that since she's healthy and yet so old she is on the edge between life and death. So long as she remains healthy, she will be able to leave the physical world when she sees fit (and definitely not when the ancestors want or expect her to. Don't worry about them. They're just jealous). I'm also really liking the portrayal of Mushu as kind of that parental figure that blames themselves for their child turning out to be lgbt+, but it may have turned out even better if he wasn't as self-absorbed as he is. However, I made that work in this chapter by phrasing his words as he likes both his pedestal and Mulan but ultimately likes Mulan more. I don't know. I thought that part was kind of cute, but he really is still so annoying. He's like one of those people who are oblivious in how they're hurting you. "Hey, girl. What's up?" and blah, blah, blah. Sometimes I can't tell who is worse in this fic, Mushu or Fa Li, in regards to how they treat Mulan. Maybe we should do some kind of **poll**. Put your thoughts in a review as to who is worse, and make sure to give details explaining why. The last time I did a poll only like five people responded, but for those who bother this ought to be good... Oh. Ouch. Hey, so I just scrolled through the next chapter, and I think maybe the poll should wait until after that. I don't remember if Mulan's mother is only in a dream or if she's really saying those things, but if you don't wish to do the "poll" now it may be beneficial to wait a little longer. Time for me to edit the next chapter... which is pretty pointless to say, since I plan on posting all 25 edited chapters at once... All well. All is well that ends well, or some kind of nonsense like that.


	12. Who Are You?

**June 28** **th** **(Day 3, Night)**

Mulan lies in the bed of her room. Darkness surrounds her and she breathes it in. She clasps her hands over her stomach as she stares at the bare ceiling and listens to the high pitched silence. She sits up to the pitter-patter, before the floor creaks and the fire is lit. "Oh, Mushu. It's you."

Mushu climbs onto the white bed, "And who are you exactly?"

Mulan pauses only for a moment, "It's me. Mushu, you know me."

Mushu stands with his arms crossed, "No. I'm rather sure I don't know you." He uncrosses his arms, only to bring them up and point his hands out at her, "You're always just pretending to be something you're not." His voice saddens, "I just want to get to know you. Why won't you let me?"

Mulan shakes her head with sorrow and irritation, "What are you talking about? Just this afternoon you told me to act and dress the part."

"Yes, but there's a difference between acting and being," Mushu raises his hands again. "and when you're here, alone with me, I want you to feel like you can be yourself and just tell me anything."

Mulan's at a loss for words, but then she remembers the army. She shakes her head, "But you do know me. We all shared a tent for three years. You should know me fairly well by now."

Mushu begins to cry, "I know I should, but I don't. That's what I'm trying to tell you. You're always trying to be something you're not. Many times, even when we were only in the tents, you were still just trying to be someone else. You were just acting all the time." He gives a quick smile, "Don't get me wrong. I'm glad you're so great at pretending to be something," His smile fades. "but I never got to know you the way I should have." Mulan's rather annoyed but doesn't know what to say. "I want to get to know you, Mulan. When I'm the only one around I don't want you to feel like you have to be quiet or size up to other soldiers."

Mulan's jaw gapes with anger, "But that was me. I wasn't acting. You know me."

Mushu shakes his head, "See. This is what I'm talking about. You're so good at acting you even believe it yourself." Mulan sees hope within his eyes. "It's time to just let this go. You're not a soldier anymore. You're a bride, and if you want to impress Shang, then you need to work on that."

Mulan stands from the bed in frustration, "I'm done with this." She looks back before leaving, "I don't care if you can't accept me. I'm accepting me, and for your information Shang doesn't mind." She leaves the room and begins out of the house, while ignoring the comment she doesn't comprehend.

The wind's howling covers her cries and the cold air freezes the tears to her cheeks. _Why don't they understand? Why can't they just pay attention and realize who I am? This is me... how could they— How could Mushu think anything different, and how could he possibly think anyone could put on such an act for such a long time? This isn't an act. This is me._

Mulan goes through the stone arch and forwards herself to the white bridge, as rain drizzles down the memory of her song. _It was a sad attempt to let people know I had a problem... I felt like it was the only way they would listen, not that they actually did._ Mulan looks over at the magnolia tree and pictures the time her father sat there with her. _He had tried to use the late bud of that summer as a symbol of how I will bloom as a bride in time. I didn't know what to say, so I only smiled. I really had hoped that I could become the perfect bride, the perfect daughter, but deep down I knew that wouldn't be possible and I feared they would blame it on a lack of trying._ She looks down at her reflection and becomes numb. _I'm tired of this. Mushu's right about one thing; I can't keep pretending to be something I'm not, and I can't keep worrying about what other people will think. I have to do this for me._

Mulan observes her features through the blue tank top and cotton shorts. Even with a lack of fat, her curves and small shoulders stick out, but she's glad to notice her army training has increased her arm muscles and decreased her chest size. Mulan's about to turn away, realizing it's not enough, but as the cold rain drops harder the image in the water distorts into Ping. _You know what you have to do._

Mulan looks up the hill at the six-sided temple, before she crosses the bridge and climbs the stone stairs. She enters reluctantly, remembering how horrible they treated her last time. She tries to light an incense, but the wind immediately blows it out. Kneeling down, she forgets about it and begins the prayer. "Ancestors, I beg you to listen. I have prayed to you for years, begging things to change. I realize now, things have changed," She remembers what Shang told her. "and that I have changed, but it's not enough." She pauses only for a moment, "No one in my family is acting like anything has changed, and when they see change they reject it." A tear would have run down her face if her cheeks didn't still burn from the headache of the last cry. "They reject me, and I'm just not sure how much longer I can put up with it for." Mulan hears something in the distance and turns to see her mother holding a lantern out in the sleet. She turns back to the tombstones, "Please, ancestors, just let something change. Let me just be me." She takes a dizzy breath, "Let me be me, and let my family accept it."

"Mulan," She hears her mother scream through the hollering wind.

Mulan whispers, short of breath, "Let my family accept me for who I am."

"Mulan," The voice is closer now, but Mulan isn't able to turn around. The last thing she sees is the cold floor, "Mulan." before her eyes flutter open to her mother standing above her bed. She sees her mother's condescending look, "It's about time. Wake up."

"For what?" Mulan shakes her head from the grogginess.

"My husband brought to my attention that if you haven't learned how to be a woman yet, then someone is going to have to teach you." Mulan looks up, hoping that her mother is only joking on some level, but she knows before their eyes even meet that only a stern expression will be seen.

"What do you want me to do?" _Great start at getting them to know and accept me._ _You idiot._

She sees a smile grow upon her mother's face. "First off, get dressed in proper clothes and without binding. I will expect you in the sitting room."

When her mother leaves Mulan comments aloud, "Fine. I was getting sore anyway." She sits up as Mushu comes out of hiding and watches as he climbs the bed. _This looks familiar._

Mushu responds, "Well, that's awfully nice of her. Maybe if she offered you help before you ran off, then I— I mean you— wouldn't be in the predicament you're in now."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mulan had meant for it to be more influential, but it only comes out as a whisper. Her stomach growls loudly for once, but it is ignored.

"Nothing. It's nothing." His voice raises with excitement, "Well, come on now. Stand up and get dressed, before she comes back in here." Mulan looks around, really paying attention to her environment for the first time since she woke. Her room looks slightly distorted, and it's hard for her to focus on her surroundings. If she didn't know better, and if she had never experienced this before, then she would probably just think her sight is fading, but she knows that's not the case. She pushes a hand down on the bed to stand and slowly makes her way to the wardrobe. It's hard for her to distinguish which dress pieces go with which, but she makes up for it by sorting by color. However, the bright fabrics don't help her mild dizziness. "Are you alright?"

Mulan twists her head in confusion, "Oh, yeah. I'm— I'm alright."

"Really, because you don't look well." He pauses as he notices Mulan finally take out an outfit, before he turns away, "When was the last time you ate?"

It takes a moment for Mulan to respond, as she had forgotten how to put the dress on again. _When did I eat last? This morning?_ "I'll eat later." She puts the blue dress on, "I can only imagine what disaster Mother has planned."

"I'm sure it won't be that bad."

Mulan sluggishly brushes through her hair and has to take the hair off her brush twice in order to finish. She slowly replies, "Oh. I'm sure it's going to be bad." as she puts the rolled up balls of hair into the fireplace.

Mushu comments, "Awe. No, it won't. You're just looking at it wrong."

"How should I look at it?" Mulan puts the brush away and shuts the wardrobe doors.

Mushu turns around, "Well, for starters, instead of thinking of these lessons as her trying to change you just think of it as gaining an extra set of skills."

Mulan takes a long breath and realizes the extra air helps with the dizziness, "Alright. I'm ready, so I'm going to the sitting room." She takes another long breath, "I guess."

Mushu responds with energy and strength, "Don't be discouraged. I have faith in you. I know you can do this."

Mulan slightly shakes her head, "Right." as she slowly walks out the door, but the word comes out as a whisper and she knows it won't be heard. She continues to walk to the sitting room, but it's not long before her mother is seen in the hallway.

"There you are." Her mother is clearly in a hurry. "Come on. Follow me." There's only a second of a pause before her mother asks, "What took you so long?"

Mulan stumbles her words, "I forgot how to put the dress on."

Her mother shakes her head, "You could have just stayed quiet. You didn't have to make up an excuse." There's silence as Mulan tries to process what was said.

"But I—" Her words are cut off as she's shushed by her mother.

They make it into the sitting room and Fa Li turns around, "I don't want to hear it. You have worn dresses your entire life. There's no way I'm going to believe you forgot how to put one on."

"But, Mama." She's shushed again, except this time with a finger pointed at her.

Mulan stays quiet and her mother smiles, "I thought we would start out with something easy— walking— which also happens to be the first thing people will judge when they see you."

Mulan's mouth opens in shock, "But, Mama. I—"

"None of your excuses." Mulan looks down at her clasped hands in worry and anticipation. "Now, walk slowly with each foot stepping in front of the other." Mulan begins, swinging each foot carefully out and in front of the other one. "Wait."

Mulan looks up at her mother's hand rubbing her forehead. _What could I have done wrong now?_

Her mother puts the hand down and takes a calming breath, "Keep your feet close together at all times." Mulan thinks about saying something but doesn't in the fear of being ridiculed again. She begins to walk with her feet closer together but forgets to walk one line. She fixes this and puts one foot in front of the other, before her mother can yell at her. However, her pace is even slower than it was before, as she keeps feeling her foot hitting the back of her other shoe. "Men want girls who work fast pace, so walk faster," her mother commands. Mulan begins to walk faster, but trips-up only after a few steps. "What happened?" Fa Li doesn't give time for her daughter to respond, "Who are you?"

The question was rhetorical and only dealt in frustration, but Mulan feels the need to answer it anyway. She only remembers the distorted reflection in her dream, "I— I'm Mulan."

Fa Li stands still, not blinking, "You hesitated." _That's the problem. She still thinks she's... oh, who was she pretending to be? Ah, never mind. It's not important._ "Who are you?" This time the question is dealt with strength and criticism.

"Mu-lan." She ran out of breath halfway through it, but it goes unnoticed.

"And what are you?"

"A girl," Mulan answers, flustered.

She sees her mother shake her head, "No. You're a woman." The term makes her feel a little sick. "You're old enough to bear children, so you're a woman." Mulan darts her eyes to the floor, trying to remember the last time she had an expected reminder of that fact, but she doesn't. "What is it?"

Mulan's slight smile drops and she replies, "Nothing." in a startled tone, but tries not to give anything away. _I can't let them know._

"Right. Well, that's enough for tonight." Fa Li hears her daughter's stomach growl. "When was the last time you ate?" Fa Li had yelled, but she's genuinely concerned.

"Ah." Mulan's memory from the day is foggy, and she only remembers Shang leaving. She takes a breath and clears her throat before answering more certain than she is, "This morning."

Fa Li shakes her head, "Eat and then go straight to sleep." She turns around and strides out of the room, leaving Mulan alone.

* * *

\- So, I don't know what I accidentally saw/read when I scrolled down to see the length, but whatever it was must not have been what I thought since the chapter wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Or, well, you know what I mean. Fa Li wasn't as cruel as I thought she would be. Anyway, what's the next chapter? "Prayers Granted"? I don't remember what that's about at all, but I'll probably remember when I start editing it. Let me just take a moment to thank everyone who's gotten this far. I know my stories can get a bit long, so anyone who's dedicated enough to pursue them despite length has my appreciation.


	13. Prayers Granted

\- I don't like to swear, but damn it. I completely forgot how important this chapter was. Even though it's just a dream, it had acted as the catalyst for Shang to accept Mulan as Ping. However, since in the edit Shang figured it out when he overheard that conversation with the grandmother (which if he's not a complete idiot he should have figured it out in the first place), now there is no secret for Mulan to reveal in this chapter. No secrets that are truly secret anyway. Man, this might be lame now. I mean, it's not like Shang has completely accepted Ping yet, but since there's no real secret I feel like this build up might just fall flat. I don't know. I've been told I'm really hard on myself, but still I almost like the other version of this chapter better. Maybe I'll put a fic out that literally contains nothing but the scraps of this one. That way you guys could compare if you felt like it. Ugh. I'm like super mad at myself. I rely heavily on memorization, and it frustrates me that this is one of the only chapters I couldn't remember anything from just from the title. What? Did my brain go like 'Oh. Dream sequence. Let's just forget that.'?.. No, because I remember every other dream in here. I don't get it. What was so bad in this chapter that my mind just had to forget it...OOOhh. Right. That happens. Never mind. I think I know now. **Trigger Warning:** you could probably guess. Happens towards the end of the first part (before the break).

* * *

 **June 29** **th** **(Early Morning, Day 4)**

"Shh. Look. They're waking up."

 _Shang?_ Mulan opens her eyes to see Shang, her father, and her mother all surrounding the bed with worried looks.

Fa Zhou lets out a breath of relief, "Oh, ancestors, thank you."

Her mother comments, "We were so worried about you."

"What's going on," Mulan whispers, short of breath.

Shang looks at Fa Zhou and Fa Li, and they leave them alone. Shang comments with loving eyes, "Your father prayed to the ancestors, so you could come back to us. While you were healing he sent for me. I— I am so sorry for just leaving you like that. I should have known."

"It's fine," Mulan comments, feeling bad for her own reaction to his leaving.

"No. It's not fine. Your dragon told me that the only reason the ancestors turned you into a girl was so you could be with me."

"Oh. That's why." Mulan looks over her figure, disappointed they didn't decide to resurrect her as she was before. _Our family needed a son. I wanted to be one. Even if I get Shang, this isn't fair._ Mulan touches her heart, remembering her father's actions.

Shang notices, "Your father apologizes greatly. He claims he wasn't in his right mind, and now that he knows you're a girl he wishes us all the happiness we deserve."

Mulan shakes her head, "I still don't understand."

Shang smiles with compassion, "I know it's a lot to wrap your mind around." Mulan doesn't respond. "I think I'm going to just let you process this." She looks up at him with anxious fear hidden within her eyes. "Don't worry. I'm not going to leave you this time. I'll be right out in the dining room waiting for you." He sees his lover relax. "I'm never leaving you again. I promise."

Mulan smiles and they share a moment, before he reluctantly gives her a kiss. "I trust you, Ping. What happened before was only an outcome of the shock I experienced." He holds her hand. "I wasn't thinking, but I love you and this doesn't change that." Ping smiles but doesn't say anything, so Shang begins out the door, turning his head back only once to reveal a deformed smirk.

Ping's happiness fades when Shang leaves the room. She can tell he's worried about something, but she's not entirely sure of what it could be. "Huh. He's as loyal as he is trouble."

"Mushu?" Ping turns to the red dragon that stands on the white sheets.

"Hey. What's up, er— girl?"

Ping takes a long, frustrated breath, "Could you just stop calling me that already?"

Mushu puts his hands up, "Fine. Fine." He lets his hand rest, but one's held on his side, "I don't see why you need to be that way, though. I only said it once."

Ping shakes her head. _When I get out of here that's the first thing I'm putting an end to._ "Was this your idea?" She sees Mushu squirm. "Oh, my— You couldn't just leave us alone, could you?"

"No, actually, I couldn't. Because the ancestors figured it out and ordered me back to the temple. Why do you think I was gone for so long?"

Ping rubs the back of her neck, "I just thought you were mad at me."

"Hmm. Well, you do have a good point there. You did call me annoying. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case." Mushu waits for a response but doesn't get one. "What happened is that the ancestors threatened to take away my guardianship over you, along with my pedestal."

"You and that stupid pedestal. Do you even care about me?"

Mushu responds with mad tears, "Of course, I care. Why do you think I asked them to do this? They were going to send in another guardian without your knowledge to break the two of you up." He inches closer to her, "I did this for you. I did this so you could be with someone you had clearly grown attached to." Mushu mistakes her lack of breathing for anger. "Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Ping breaks down in tears, "I can't do this, not again."

Mushu tries to comfort her by hugging one of her crossed legs, "Don't worry. It will be okay."

Ping shakes her head, "This was supposed to be my dream. This was supposed to be my perfect life. It wasn't supposed to be like this." Mushu tries to hush her, reassuring it will be okay, but it doesn't work. "I can't do this. I can't be a girl. I just— I can't."

Mushu lets go but keeps his hand on her knee, "Things will be fine. You're just under a lot of stress right now, but time will pass and you will get used to it."

Ping sniffles, "I will never get used to it." before choking a whimper. "You don't just get used to things like this. As time passes, it only gets harder and harder." She takes many half breaths, before she finally retrieves enough air to speak, "I— I can't do this. I can't handle it."

Mushu looks at her with sadness and regret, but he hides as the door creaks open. "Who are you talking to?" Fa Li puts a hand up in worry, before she goes and sits on the bed. "Why are you crying? What's wrong?"

Ping tries to take a couple calming breaths, but she fails and ends with a sputter. "I— I." She gulps down the tears. "I can't do this. I— I don't want to be a girl."

Her mother grabs her hand, trying to comfort her child, "I know this must be hard for you, but don't you see what a great opportunity this is for you?" Ping doesn't speak, but her mother tries to put on a smile, "Now you and Shang can be together and be accepted. You can be with him now."

Ping sniffles, "It's not the same."

Fa Li tries not to imagine what her used-to-be son could be referring to, "It may be different, but this way it's easier on everyone."

Ping shakes her head, "Just because this concept seems easier to deal with, doesn't mean the people involved are going to have it easy." Her mother doesn't know what to say, so she walks over to the wardrobe. Ping watches as the doors open, "Where did the other clothes go?"

"Oh. You won't need those anymore." She takes out several dress pieces of red and white, "I'm going to teach you how to put one on."

Ping slowly shakes her head, "I'm not undressing in front of anyone."

Her mother is clearly annoyed, but it only shows in her posture, "I don't see why you have to be this way. We're both women here now, so get undressed so I can help you put one on." Ping shakes her head as she looks over her body with discomfort. Fa Li looks up to the ceiling for guidance from the ancestors, but there's no response. "How do you expect me to help you if you don't follow directions?"

Ping takes a long, shallow breath, "Just leave it on the bed. I can figure it out for myself." Fa Li opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Instead, she lets out a calming breath and leaves the room, which stays deathly silent as Mushu remains hidden. Ping looks over at the dress pieces, only wanting to tear them to shreds but manages to just separate and put them on instead. She reluctantly turns to the mirror to inspect the nightmare she came to be, but only the soldier is seen. The expression on his face is a mix of shock, anger, and desperation that she's never seen before. _What are you doing? You can't do this to us. What are you thinking, or are you even thinking at all?_ She doesn't speak and pretends not to see the soldier as she messes with her hair. _I can't believe you're actually going along with this. You need to stop it. Now!_ She notices the soldier become angrier. _If you don't stop this, then—_ "Then, what?" The soldier goes silent. "You can't help me, so don't pretend you can." Ping turns and begins to walk away. _I'm not letting this happen. One way or another, I will stop you. I will stop all of this._ Ping shakes her head, but it's hard not to smile, "Please, do."

Ping's about to exit when she's brought to a halt. "Ah, who were you talking to?"

Ping turns around to see Mushu peeking out from under the bed, before she looks at the mirror, "No one." She turns away, "They don't exist." before she leaves him behind.

In the hallway she hears whispering, but when she enters the dining room it is soundless and it looks like everyone is thinking over important, fragile things. Her mother grins, "Now, look at this. You look so lovely in that dress."

Ping looks over herself in confusion, "Thank you." She lifts her head up. _I guess._

After she sits down her father half-laughs with a smile, "Your mother didn't think you could put it on without her." as he takes a sip of tea.

Ping shrugs, "It was easier than I remembered."

Her parents look confused, so Shang explains, "In order to save the emperor we had to disguise ourselves as helpless concubines. They never saw us coming."

Fa Zhou is intrigued, "That's an interesting strategy. Who came up with it?"

Shang can't help but to grin, "Actually, your son— or, well, daughter came up with it." He looks at Ping passionately, "They were my best soldier." He turns his head down as his smile slips and distracts himself with the early breakfast, "I was going to have him help train the new recruits, but now it seems like I'm either going to have to find someone else or act alone."

Fa Li smiles at her daughter, "Well, that's interesting. Looks like this was meant to be."

Ping stays silent and only wishes she could hide from her mother's comment. _Just because you disguise yourself as a concubine, doesn't mean you were meant to be a woman. I didn't even wear makeup, and she thinks I was meant to be a girl because I disguised myself as one. What if I started dressing as a guy again? Would she ask the ancestors to change me back? Doubt it._

Shang glances over at Ping, "You should eat something."

Ping looks around the table, uncomfortable, as she sees the cooked meal. Its rich smell makes her feel sick, "I'm not really hungry."

Her father looks sternly into her eyes, "Eating is a social event." Ping sighs and reluctantly picks up a large carrot to chew on, and her father only stands when she's finished, "Ping, your mother will begin your daily lessons today, so obey her instruction." He turns to Shang, "Follow me."

Ping looks back as she is lead away from the conversation, wondering what her father wishes to speak with him about. She follows her mother down the hallways and into the sitting room. Her grandmother watches closely from the corner as Ping rubs her arm and asks uncomfortably with fear, "Are we walking?"

Her mother nods, "You're not leaving 'til you get it right."

"Right." Ping takes a breath and begins to walk. She walks slowly as her feet are close together, but her mother is clearly irritated. Ping begins to walk faster, and although she nearly trips multiple times, her mother doesn't interrupt. She just watches failure after failure, before Ping's mistakes start occurring less. Ping watches as her mother crosses the room and picks up a thick book.

She comes back over quickly, "Keep your back straight and your head up." and puts the book on top of Ping's head. "Walk gracefully, but keep up the speed." The book falls multiple times as Ping trips over both her feet and the dress. Eventually, her mother puts a hand to her forehead again and shakes her head at the lack of progress, "That's enough." Ping stops in relief but is disappointed with herself. "You're free to go."

Ping notices her grandmother's sad reaction, before she leaves the room in anger and disappointment. Halfway down the hallway her stomach stabs her with hunger, and she carefully makes sure no one notices as she sneaks her way to the kitchen. Ping chomps down on another large carrot, before she reaches for the small loaf of bread. She momentarily stops as the soldier appears in her peripheral vision. _Don't eat that. What do you think you're doing?_ "Eating." She answers with a mouth full of bread, "I'm starved."

The soldier comes closer, clearly upset and angry. _No. Don't you know what you're doing to us?_ Ping finishes the bread and begins two more carrots. _I order you to stop right now._ Ping continues the carrots without comment, and the soldier looks at her behavior in stress. _Don't you remember what the price is for eating too much?_ She finishes the two carrots, "Right now I don't care." and goes for more bread. _How can you not care?_ Ping continues engulfing the bread through the soldier's shouting. _You're just going to bring back all the pain and everything we worked so hard to get rid of._

Ping finishes the third loaf of bread. _Stop it now!_ "I can't." Her hand reaches towards a bundle of carrots as the soldier makes a turn with his hands on his head. Before she can touch any more of the food, he desperately pushes her up against the wall and draws the sword to her neck. _Stop it._ Ping looks into the soldier's fearful eyes with regret, "I will. I'm sorry." The soldier puts his sword down as he takes a disappointed breath. _It's too late. Apologies won't fix this._ Ping reaches for her pelvis as she feels it begin, "No. What have I done?" She looks up at the soldier, "Please, tell me, what can I do to stop this?" The soldier shakes his head with anxiety. _Nothing. Once it starts, it can't be stopped._ A few tears escape Ping's eyes, "Please. There must be way to stop this. I will do anything."

The soldier stays quiet for a moment, trying to come up with anything to stop their misfortune. _You could try to exercise as much as we did back in the army._ Ping notices the soldier's lack of confidence, "And if that doesn't work?" The soldier doesn't hesitate. _Then you could always just slash through your lower stomach._ Ping gives an unsure look, "But… couldn't that be dangerous?" The soldier smirks and huffs a laugh. _If you end up dead, then hopefully the ancestors will resurrect you as a man this time._ Ping nods, almost wishing that were the case. _Now, get to work._ "Yes, sir," Ping replies, before she rushes to the training room.

* * *

Shang sits in Fa Zhou's study, unsure of how to answer the question asked, "Sorry. Could you possibly repeat the question, please?"

Fa Zhou gives him a stern look, "I asked if you liked my daughter more as a soldier."

"Oh, um." Shang had hoped for a reworded question. "Well, it depends." He sees Fa Zhou's eyes watching him intently, "I mean, they made a brilliant soldier." He's given a questioning look. "But, obviously, I can only marry a woman." He tries to shake off the tense silence with a laugh, "I mean— Not that I ever liked Ping." He's given another look. "And not that I didn't. I mean— I would be honored if I could marry your daughter."

"But you liked having a soldier better," Fa Zhou finishes with a neutral expression.

"I never said that," Shang defends himself in a hurry. "I mean— He was a great soldier, but—" He sits up straight with confidence, "I don't understand what you're implying."

Fa Zhou gives another inquiring look but only replies, "I'm not implying anything. I think everything is very clear." Shang doesn't speak and looks to the floor in shame. "You will stand by my daughter no matter what happens. I give you permission to marry her."

Shang looks up, "Really?" Fa Zhou only nods. Shang stands up and bows, "Thank you, great and honorable Fa Zhou." Shang is about to leave when Fa Zhou fakes a cough.

He comments when Shang turns back around, "I believe we still need to negotiate the contract."

"Oh. Right." Shang takes a breath of humility, before he sits back in the chair.

The negotiations turn out very simple, and Shang exits knowing it will turn out well. _Some gardeners, a maid, and a small portion of my family's finances. Elder Brother will no doubt be impressed with how little we have to give in this case._ Shang stops in front of the training room in shock. He walks in seeing his bride slash through the air with a sword, as if they are fending off dozens of enemies, "What are you doing?"

She stops and takes multiple needed breaths, "Working out my problems."

Shang shakes his head as he moves closer, "You're injured. You shouldn't even be in here. What if someone sees you?" The woman lifts up her long dress to avoid tripping as she walks to him.

Shang opens his mouth to speak, but she speaks, "I don't care what anyone thinks anymore." Their eyes meet as she continues, "And I'm not injured. Resurrections heal all wounds."

"I don't understand." _Resurrections? What is she talking about?_

He watches as she gives a solemn smile, "It doesn't matter. None of this is real." She turns to the window's rising sun, "It may seem real. It may feel real." She turns and sees the soldier at the room's entrance, "But none of this is real." A tear runs down her face as she wraps her arms around Shang.

He embraces the moment, "It will be okay. Everything will be fine."

Mulan shakes her head, "No, it won't. Don't you see? This isn't me." She lets go, and he holds her shoulders as she looks into his eyes, "I wouldn't be able to tell you this in real life." He sees another tear run down her face. "I would never be able to admit this to anyone in real life," He thinks of speaking but stays quiet. "You see, you were right. And I know the real you knows, but I would have never admitted it to be true." She takes a shaky breath, "Especially since you seem to think as with anyone else that sticking to tradition is easier than breaking it." She gulps down the newly formed tears, "And because of that, you would never be with Ping." She grits her teeth in a smile, "We aren't official in any way, so maybe it won't even matter." Shang sees her blink away more tears. "But if it does matter, I do like you and I really don't want to give you up because of this."

 _Then don't._ Shang opens his mouth to speak, but he knows she's right. He's just some coward too afraid to do what he wants, the consequences being either that Mulan marries someone who will most likely be unaccepting or he marries her and his fear still forces her to conform to 'a life of lies'.

Mulan pauses and wonders if she should go further, but then she remembers this is only a dream, "Something else I wouldn't tell you is that you may be able to follow tradition, but I can't." She slowly shakes her head, "I know it's unrealistic and that I'm not supposed to feel this way, but I do. I feel like I should have always been Ping." She turns her head down in shame as the sun shines through the mist and into the room. "I wish I didn't and I shouldn't. I wish I could have just been like every other girl out there, but no matter how I try it just doesn't seem to turn out well." She looks back up at him, "If you were to marry Mulan, she would be no wife. She would just be a mistake."

Shang lifts her chin up, "You're not a mistake, and there's nothing wrong with the way you feel."

Tears drop down Mulan's face as she laughs a smile, "I wish I could believe that. I really do, but I have no idea what the real you would say to this."

Shang shakes his head, "I love you for you, not for who you pretend to be."

Mulan looks sadly into his eyes, "Let's say you do love me, and you love me as me." She raises her eyebrows in question, "Would it matter, because I don't think it would."

Shang stays quiet, because once again she's right. It wouldn't matter, not if he continues being such a coward about it. _What's so wrong with me that I can't just take what I want?_

Mulan gulps down more tears, "I don't understand why I'm even dreaming about this. The real you is at your brother's, so even if you did understand you couldn't possibly help me." Shang lets go and gives her a questioning look. "I tried your plan, but it isn't working." He laughs, "It's gone so horribly actually that my mother's gotten this idea that she could teach me how to be a woman." Shang doesn't know what to say, and by the time he does she's already continued to speak, "Okay. I'm sorry and everything, but you're not real. I should probably be waking up soon anyway. Don't want my mother to be more frustrated with me than she already is." She wipes the remnants of her tears away with a sleeve, "It's crazy how much I already miss you." She takes in a small breath before letting it back out in the form of a whisper, "Goodbye."

"Wait." Shang reaches out his hand, but it's too late as she had already disappeared. _Could that have been real? Could that have really been them?_

"Hello, General." Shang turns around and sees Ping leaning on the doorframe in his army outfit.

"What are you doing," Shang asks as the soldier walks up close to him.

"Oh, I was just looking for you." The soldier is completely confident in his words and actions, "I thought we could mess around, have some fun, and maybe play with some swords."

Shang is momentarily confused as the soldier wraps his arms around him, "I know this is only a dream, but are you the real Ping by any chance?"

The soldier leans in and whispers into his ear, "I'm whatever you want me to be."

Shang stands still. _I'm guessing this isn't them, but I'm certain the other one was. Ugh, this is crazy. I mean, I must have just been imagining them. Right?_

"So. What do you think, General?"

Shang remembers the question, "Uh, I'm not sure."

"How about we let our actions talk, then?" Ping leans in and kisses Shang, before they lose their balance and fall to the floor. Ping looks down at Shang and laughs, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Shang rubs the back of his head, before he looks at the doorway, "We won't get in trouble for this, will we?"

"You can count on it." Shang looks into Ping's eyes as his worry fades and he gains confidence, before he rolls Ping over and kisses him back.

* * *

\- Hey again guys. I hope it wasn't too lame. At first it seems kind of funny, what with Ping's father being very 'sorry' for killing them and Shang getting all flustered and stuttery in his talk with Fa Zhou. Then it got a little dark with the binge eating and the soldier revealing that in the dream world he is a physical being. Man. If anyone pays attention to how the dreams are put together and assuming I find a place for everything, then it's going to be great. At the very least I keep picturing the ending of the dream's plot, and in my opinion it's amazing... although, I don't remember if that was intended for this fic or if it was for the sequel. Yeah. I think way too much. I usually have several books ruffly planned in a series before I even finish the first one. Sad, I know. Anyway, then there's the dreaded part where Mulan and Shang's dreams collide, which was almost completely scrapped and redone. The rest of it stayed relatively the same. (Looks at next chapter.) Ugh. Why did it have to be so dramatic? Let me see if I can tone down the dialogue a little. Shoot, but I think the chapter after that was built on top of that. Well, hey. It was just another dream, so it doesn't matter. I'll just rewrite it if I have to.


	14. Problems will Rise and Fall with the Son

\- Okay. So it wasn't quite as dramatic as I remembered, but there still was this line that repeated a few times. It's probably that line that made me think it was so dramatic, so I took the duplicate out. For obvious reasons, as you read you will realize this scene had to be somewhat dramatic, but I no longer think it's unnecessarily dramatic... you know, if that makes sense. Have a good read.

* * *

 **June 29** **th** **(Day 4, Dawn)**

Fa Zhou and his mother stay quiet, as they see Mulan turn past the sitting room and go out the back door. Grandmother Fa notices her son's hearty breath, "What's troubling you?"

Fa Zhou shakes his head, "I just worry sometimes." He coughs. "For Mulan. For Li." He looks up at his gracefully aged mother, "For you."

His mother responds with concern, "You shouldn't worry so much. It will get you sick."

"I'm already sick." He coughs again. "And if something happens—"

"Nothing's going to happen." Grandmother Fa looks over her son carefully, "Have you spoken with the ancestors?"

Fa Zhou shakes his head as his hands rest on his cane, "I haven't prayed to them in a month." He takes a hard, deep breath, "I can't even make it up that hill anymore." He looks down the hallway, remembering Mulan's exit, "If something happens—"

"Nothing's going to happen," his mother interrupts in stern fear, but she's sure she's right.

He continues, "If something happens let Mulan know I'm deeply sorry," He takes a deep, emotional breath. "For everything." He looks up with sad, exhausted eyes, "Tell her I wish things could have been different, for all of us."

Grandmother Fa nods, "I will. Don't worry."

Fa Zhou is about to say his thanks but is stopped when he hears the back door open. "Mulan." He coughs from the strained voice and tiredly whispers as she walks to the room, "Have you given any thought about seeing the matchmaker again?"

Mulan lowers her head, "I have, but I don't think I would do any better." Her father doesn't respond. "Mother said you told her to give me the lessons."

Fa Zhou sees anger hidden within her tired expression, "She had complained about your lack of progress. I told her a cricket is not taught to be a cricket and that if you haven't learned how to be a woman on your own, then you wouldn't." He takes a breath as he sees disappointment in his daughter's sad eyes, "I am sorry if she interpreted it wrong. I didn't think she would try to change you, and I don't believe she could." Mulan doesn't speak. "I only want what is best for you."

Mulan puts a hand to her head as the ground becomes unsteady, "You keep saying that. Do— Do you—" She looks at their worried faces as she tries to remember what she was going to say, "Do you think I need to change? Do you wish I could?"

Her father answers in regret, "No. Having you for a daughter is a great honor. It would make things easier if you were more flexible, but you can't change who you are. I realize that now."

 _Daughter._ Mulan grips the doorframe for strength, "And who am I exactly to you? Who do you think I am?" There's no response, as her father and grandmother's concern is concentrated on her. "You don't know me. You don't know what I've gone through, what I've been hiding, or how I wish so desperately things could be different." Mulan places the other hand up to her head, and as the room brightens and the floor moves she whispers, "You don't know how hard this is for me. You don't know what lengths I've gone to, to stop all of this."

Fa Zhou responds with deep concerned, "What are you talking about?"

Mulan takes several shallow breaths, "You don't know me. This isn't me." She gulps, "I'm a lie." as a tear runs down her cheek, and the bright white room flickers until it turns to black.

Fa Zhou quickly stands and stumbles over to where she had fainted. Mulan's grandmother follows as Fa Li walks down the hallway, "What was that?" She makes it to the doorway of the sitting room and covers her mouth with a hand as she gasps, "What happened?"

Grandmother Fa can tell her son and his wife are clueless, "The general mentioned she may have an eating problem." They look at her in horror and disbelief. "He was able to convince her to eat during his visit, but I'm afraid there may have been a lack of supervision since he left."

Fa Zhou shakes his head, "This can't be—" He turns to his wife, "When was the last time you saw her eat?"

Fa Li states with grace and confidence, "I told her to eat last night. She made breakfast yesterday morning. Eating can't be the issue."

Mulan's grandmother shakes her head in spite, "You honestly think she was going to eat, just because you told her to?"

Fa Zhou turns from Mulan to her grandmother, "Mother, if you know something—"

She responds abruptly, "I'm not sure of anything." She pauses as she considers how much should be said. "She has been hiding things, but now's not the time to discuss it. I would recommend, however, for you to write Li Shang and explain what happened."

Her son shakes his head, "The general doesn't need to be bothered. This is a family matter."

Fa Li kneels over their unconscious daughter and touches her husband's shoulder, "You should listen to her. If Mulan really does have an eating problem, and if the general has been able to convince her to eat before, then he may be a great person to have around right now."

Fa Zhou takes a much needed breath, "Alright. I'll send for the general. Get Mulan to her bed." He stands and leaves his daughter behind, as Fa Li and her mother-in-law gather their strength.

* * *

Mulan walks into the training room and shakes her head in laughable annoyance, as she sees Shang with Ping, "Wow. I must be really messed up."

Shang turns to her in shock, "Mulan." He stands and struggles to hurriedly put his pants on, "It's not what it looks like." He turns back to a smiling and unmoving Ping, before he takes a deep breath and looks at her, "Okay. I know this looks bad, but I can explain."

She shakes her head, "There's no need, really. This is only a dream, and I'm honestly not that surprised." Shang gives an inquiring look. "I mean—" Mulan turns her head and rubs her neck, "It wouldn't be the first time." She looks past Shang and at the solder who's finally getting dressed, "It's just not normally like this."

Shang looks back only briefly, "Yeah. About this being a dream—" He notices her tired and almost careless expression, "I thought you said you were going to leave. I saw you leave."

"Yeah. I'm rather surprised to be back here myself." She puts a hand to her head, "I only remember—" She puts it back down in confusion, "I don't remember." She sees Shang's concern, before she walks back to the entrance and touches the doorframe, "I think something happened."

There's a loud knock and Shang wakes up to his brother's voice, "Breakfast is ready. Get up and eat." There's a pause as Shang tries to rub his headache away. "We need to talk."

"Alright." Shang sits on the bed as the dream rampages through his mind, "I'm getting up."

After he gets dressed Shang walks out to the dining room. Everyone stares at him, before his brother leads him away to the sitting room. "What's going on," he asks, confused and tired. "What was that? Why are we in here?" They sit down. "What happened to breakfast?"

The elder brother sits uncomfortably but remains professionally stern, "I thought you may want to have breakfast without the company."

"Company," Shang questions as a maid comes in with tea and soup.

Li Fu waits for the maid to leave and clasps his hands, "You are aware you talk in your sleep?"

"I do?" Shang shakes his head, "I had no idea." His brother remains silent, and Shang turns his head to the floor, "Did— Is that why they were acting so weird?"

"We all heard you." The elder brother looks around to make sure they're alone, "It seemed like you were getting to know this Ping a little too well."

"Oh, right." He looks back up, "What did you tell them?"

Li Fu shrugs uncomfortably, "I wasn't sure whether or not you were just covering yourself last night, so I didn't really say anything." Shang doesn't speak. "So, tell me, who's the lucky girl?"

"Right. Well," Shang scratches his head. "Her name is Mulan."

His brother gives an inquiring smirk, "Hmm. So, this Ping—"

"Technically doesn't exist," Shang finishes. He takes an irritated breath, "But in a way they do. They do exist." He notices his brother's concern, "It's really complicated."

It takes a moment for Li Fu to respond, "How complicated is it exactly?"

Shang shakes his head, "It's too complicated. I wouldn't know where to start."

"Okay. Then, maybe, the question should be what this Mulan's status is, and if you feel like it's too complicated to arrange a marriage with her."

"She's the daughter of Fa Zhou."

Li Fu almost can't hold his excitement, "The great and honorable Fa Zhou? He was the best magistrate and soldier in his day."

Shang nods, "She does have an impressive status, but although I care for them, I'm not sure if I'm ready to actually marry them. I mean—" He shifts uncomfortably, "We both still have our own problems to work out." He puts a hand up to his still existent headache, "We need more time."

Li Fu nods, deep in thought, "Your request is granted."

Shang sits up straight in shock, "Really?"

The elder brother smiles but remains concerned, "I will have Li married off before winter, and I will make sure Yong has a suitor by early spring. By the time he's married I want your decision, so you can have your standings secured by the time summer ends."

Shang smiles with gratitude, "I don't know what to say. Thank you so much."

His brother shrugs, "I would need more time as well if I were you." He nods down to the food, "Now, let's eat. You've had a long journey and an eventful stay so far, so you must be hungry." Shang doesn't argue as they both take a sip of tea and begin the soup.


	15. And then there was Light

**June 29** **th** **(Day 4, Late Morning)**

Mulan tiredly awakens and is shocked to see her father and grandmother sitting beside her. The sunlight coming in from the window highlights their worried expressions as her father observes, "You're awake. Are you alright? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She puts one hand to her forehead and the other to her rumbling stomach, "What happened? What's going on?"

"You fainted." She sees a tear run down from his relieved eyes, "I was afraid we had lost you."

Mulan shakes her head, "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? When was the last time you ate?"

She gets rather annoyed with his concern, "I don't remember, but does it matter? I'm fine."

Fa Li comes in with a bowl of soup and a side of carrots, "No. You aren't. You're clearly not fine, and you clearly ignored my instructions for you to eat last night." She holds the tray in front of her daughter, "Eat."

Mulan sits up and crawls away from it as she remembers the nightmare, "No. It's cursed. All food is cursed." She closes her eyes and bends her head down, "Get it away from me."

Fa Li shakes her head, "Now you're just being preposterous."

Fa Zhou sees his daughter's fear as she so adamantly complains, "No. It's evil. Get rid of it."

Grandmother Fa watches as Fa Li firmly and angrily holds onto the tray of food, "No. You're making me look like a bad mother. Eat or—"

"Li," Fa Zhou lets out a hearty breath. "Could you give the tray to my mother and leave us."

Fa Li shakes her head as she follows her husband's orders, "You need to fix her right now. She won't listen to me, so it's up to you." She leaves the room in anger, regret, and disappointment.

After his wife leaves Fa Zhou desperately asks his child, "Will you at least take a carrot?"

"No," Mulan shakes her head in desperation, "One carrot leads to more carrots, and carrots lead to bread which leads to—" She gasps as she covers her mouth and tears stream down her face, "Please, don't make me eat anything. Please."

There is silence as Fa Zhou and his mother give each other worried looks. Mulan's grandmother reaches for her grandchild's hand, "We won't make you do anything if you tell us why."

Mulan opens her mouth to speak, as more tears run down her face, but she can only squeak, "I can't." and is hardly audible in the end.

Fa Zhou remembers what happened before his daughter had fainted, "Does this have anything to do with what you said earlier?"

Mulan tries to breathe and gulps, "What did I say earlier?"

Her father replies reluctantly with fear, "You said you were hiding something."

"Oh. Right." Mulan clasps her hands in worry. _I can't let them know._

"What is it?" Mulan sees her grandmother's knowledge full of sorrow. "What are you hiding?"

Mulan shakes her head and huffs a disbelieving laugh, "You already know, and if you don't I know you can figure it out with what I've already said."

"Mother. What is she talking about?" He looks more confused than angry, "I thought you said you didn't know anything."

She retorts, "I said I wasn't sure of anything. I did say she was hiding things."

"What's she hiding." There's silence as he looks between the two of them.

Grandmother Fa turns to her grandchild, "Do you want to tell him or shall I?

Mulan takes her hand back and holds it in fear, "Please, don't."

Her grandmother shakes her head, "Something has to be said."

Mulan brings her legs up and wraps her arms around them, "I— I can't. Please, don't."

"Sorry. I have to." She takes a breath, before she sets the tray on the bed and turns to her son, "They have been hiding things. Now, I don't blame them. I wouldn't know how to explain or even mention it if I was them."

"What is it?" He tries to remain calm, but the guilt and anxiety on his daughter's face proves it to be serious, "How bad is it?"

The grandmother takes a breath as she tries to form her words, "I think that not eating was their way to cope with something else."

Fa Zhou shakes his head, "I don't understand."

His mother continues as his daughter's sad eyes peek up at him, "You remember how they were a soldier in the army?" He only nods. "It turns out that they actually feel more comfortable as a soldier rather than a bride."

"Didn't we already know that?" He looks to his daughter, but she keeps her head down.

Fa Zhou shifts back to his mother as she explains, "I'm afraid it's more serious than that." She pauses only for a moment, "They not only feel more comfortable as a soldier rather than a bride, but they also feel more comfortable living as a man and not a woman."

His mouth only drops for a second, before he turns to his child, "Is this true?"

Mulan shifts uncomfortably and takes a short breath, "It doesn't have to be." She sees her father's worried expression, "I mean—" She tries to clear her dry throat. "I could just continue hiding it. I could try to find a husband. I could—" She covers her mouth as the tears fall. "I'm so sorry. I know I shouldn't feel this way, and I know I should've told you sooner. I just— I'm sorry."

Fa Zhou turns back to his mother, "So, Li—"

"Went about it wrong. This isn't something that can be fixed." She continues with sad confidence, "This is who they are. Trying to change them will do more harm than good."

Fa Zhou shakes his head at the new information, "Then what can we do?" He grasps onto the cane harder for support and so his trembling hands can't be seen. "What could we possibly do now?"

"Just let them be themselves." Grandmother Fa sees her son's concern and reluctance. "In a few months everyone will think you have a son anyway. Proving such early can only reinforce the idea."

"And children?" Mulan notices her father's clear distress. "She can't have children if everyone thinks I have a son and she publicly takes that role."

"Have you been paying attention?" His mother almost yells, "If they keep refusing to eat, then they won't be able to have children in any case." Mulan's father looks down in shame and disappointment. "We can only hope that if we let them be themselves, then they will eat enough to live." Her son looks up at her in sadness. "Children occur in many ways. They don't need to bear one."

Fa Zhou looks to his child, "I don't want to lose you. We can't lose you." A tear escapes Mulan's eyes. "If we let this happen— If we let you be yourself, will you eat?"

Mulan nods as she gulps down more tears, "I'll try."

Fa Zhou goes over and sits on the bed. He hugs his child as tears sting his eyes, "No matter who or what you are, we are family," He lets go, but his hands remain on their shoulders. "And we will always care for you no matter what happens." Mulan smiles, but then they're handed a carrot. "Please, try." Their smile fades, but their father looks so hopeful. The sun drifts above the window and the clear sky is shone, but the room remains brighter than ever before.

* * *

\- Did I mention the dream sequences are out of order? Yeah. They are, which is kind of realistic. You know what it's like when you dream about something playing out, but then you find it doesn't flow well so you try to fill in the missing pieces. No? Just me, then. Okay. Anyway, this dream happens after the "who are you" dream, but those sequences happen after several other dreams. Don't worry. When this fic is finished I'll put the dreams in a separate post in chronological order, just in case some people weren't able to piece them together. However, I can't promise the dreams will all be there. The ending of the dreams happen when Ping truly accepts himself and has the courage to say so, but (spoiler) that may not happen in this first fic. This fic ends with the Autumn festival, and one or two seasons is just not enough time to fully accept yourself when you live in such a traditional setting.

-Sorry. It will probably take 3 fics to resolve everything: 1st) Mulan and Shang become closer, half of the ancestors leave the temple, Li Li gets married, Mulan and Yong meet each other, and at the end Ping goes to the Autumn festival with Shang, Yao, Ling, and Po. 2nd) Mulan and Shang get married, Yong gets married, and the rest of the ancestors leave. 3rd) Basically just shows how everyone deals with their new lives. Someone doesn't want their child anymore, so they sell her to Shang and Mulan. So, basically adoption... Yeah. Let's just see how fast I can get through this one first. Hold your thumbs and keep your fingers crossed that I can finish this fic by the end of spring or summer.


	16. Nothing can be Said

**June 29** **th** **(Day 4, Noon)**

"I already told you. There's nothing to tell." _Why can't he let this go? What I dream about is none of their business, and what I call the person I like is none of his business._

Li Fu laughs, "Right. So, nothing happened? Nothing at all?"

"We never did anything," Shang growls in irritation. "I told you, there's nothing to tell."

"Do you wish there were?" Shang stops following his older brother.

He shakes his head but it isn't seen, "Why do you care?" His brother turns around. "You realize they're a girl?" Li Fu stays silent, but a smirk is seen. "We're not married. It would be wrong."

"So, you've never thought about it." Shang thinks about slapping the grin off of his face, but he remains respectful to the elder brother and doesn't.

Shang walks closer for emphasis, "No. I haven't. Do you realize what could happen?" Li Fu is still silent. "No one should do anything that could result in an unwanted child."

The elder brother lifts his eyebrows, "So, you wouldn't do anything with her, unless the two of you were married and agreed to have a child?"

"Of course," Shang almost screams. _Who does he think he is?_ "No one wants a woman who has already borne a child with another man. I wouldn't do that to her."

Li Fu no longer smiles but questions, "So, this dream of yours wasn't about her?"

Shang takes a calming breath, before he reluctantly admits, "No. It wasn't."

He looks at the ground, not wanting to see his brother's reaction. "So, it was about him?"

Shang lifts his head back up, "Does it matter? They're not real anyway." He feels like hitting himself, as he remembers the dream and his conversations with Mulan. _But it had to be said._

His brother nods back to the house, "What will we tell them?"

Shang shakes his head, "Nothing can be said. Let them think what they will. It doesn't matter."

Li Fu nods in understanding before asking, "Little brother?"

"Yes, Elder Brother?" Shang can't remember the last time they were so formal but goes with it.

His brother tries to be calm, "May you be honest with me about something?"

"What is it," his little brother responds reluctantly in fear and confusion.

It takes a moment for Li Fu to phrase the question, "Do you dream more about women or men?"

Shang comments with hesitation, "If I were to be honest," His brother nods. "I probably do dream more of men." He hurries an explanation in fear of dishonor, "Don't get me wrong. I don't have anything against women." It's hard for him to get the rest out. "I think I just like guys a little more." He awkwardly smiles as he rubs the back of his neck, trying to relieve the tension. He can't tell if his brother is concerned or just doesn't care, "Please, don't say anything to anyone?"

"You have my word." Li Fu smiles when he notices his brother relax, "Come on."

Shang begins to follow his brother again, "Where are we going?"

They walk over the sturdy bridge as the elder brother responds, "Do you remember when we were little and grandfather would teach us to meditate in the garden?"

Shang laughs, "I remember you complaining about how Yong and I could never be quiet, and how grandfather would always ask us not to pull at the grass and flowers."

"Yeah." He laughs too, "Well, you're older now and I feel like you could use some relaxation." He leads his brother off the stone path. "Do you wish to face the trees or the water?"

Shang looks back at the river's stream, but he can't help to notice his family's home which lies beyond. _I'm a disgrace._ He remembers the concern on his mother's face. _I only want what's best for you._ "The woods will do nicely." He turns his head back around and they sit beneath the midday sun.

Li Fu comments, "Don't think about anything. Just listen, and if you have to, look at the wood."

Shang crosses his legs and folds his hands. He looks at his brother, who has already shut his eyes and is now breathing at a steady pace, before he stares out at the woods.

He shuts his eyes as he remembers a time back at the training camp. He had been trying to hunt down something for the soldiers to eat when he heard three of them coming his way. One was laughing hysterically, "Yeah, right. You— You think that Ping—" His words are stifled by his laughter.

Shang hides behind a tree and slightly turns his head to see. The short man replies, "He has to." He looks more grossed out than angry but is overall confused. "Why else would he slap my butt?"

Shang raises an eyebrow and smiles. _So, that's what all of the commotion was about._

The thin, weak soldier replies with more laughter, "But he can't— You know who his father is."

The small soldier replies in confidence, "But he is. Have you seen the way he looks at the captain when his shirt is off?" There's a second of silence. "I'm telling you he does, and it's— It's weird."

Shang notices a questioning look on the thin soldier's face, as the large, tall soldier finally speaks, "Yao. It's not our place to judge. It's our place to act as we would a brother, to any soldier in need." They all remain silent as they walk by, but only until the weak one laughs about something else.

Shang shakes his head, before he takes a completely separate direction. He hears a twig break and takes the left path to see what it is. It doesn't take a long time for him to find the soldier previously mentioned, "Ping? What are you doing?"

He lifts up the bow and arrow, "I felt bad for spilling the supply of rice we had, so I thought I'd try to shoot something." Ping looks away. "I would probably do better at berry picking right now, but I was afraid of poisoning us all." He looks back with sad, guilty eyes.

Shang nods before noticing how the bow and arrow are positioned, "You're left-handed?" He knows he had sounded shocked, but he couldn't help it. _No wonder he's the worst of them._

"No." He can see the fear in Ping's eyes.

"Do you know what the punishment is for lying to your commanding officer?" His words are more stern than he meant, and he feels regret when Ping turns his head down in contemplation. "I'm sorry, but this is about safety." Ping looks back up, but Shang can't tell if it's in shock or relief. "This is a war, and I need all of my soldiers to do his best." _I need to do my best. I need to be a good captain._ He nods down to the bow and arrow, "If you're left-handed I need to know."

Shang notices Ping searching his face for a lie, before he shamefully replies, "I am."

The captain nods, "And which eye do you shoot from?"

Ping clearly lacks confidence, "I think I did better shooting from my left eye."

Shang shakes his head, "Swords are one thing, but if you want to hit any target, then you're going to have to shoot with your left hand."

Ping shakes his head and his voice goes higher, "But the other soldiers—"

"Don't matter." Shang hates seeing his soldiers emotional; it makes his job only harder, and the high pitch had heard is a clear indication that he was about to cry. Shang puts a hand on Ping's shoulder, "Assuming they survive, they will have their own lives to attend to. Spreading horrendous rumors about a son of a man with such status as your father has will only hurt the lives they so desperately tried to get back to." Ping smiles with newfound relief. "No rumors about you will escape this camp."

Shang sees grateful lights in Ping's eyes, "Thank you."

He smiles back, "No problem." and takes the bow and arrow back from his soldier. "I expect you to give your best tomorrow."

Ping bows his head, "Yes, Captain."

Shang opens his eyes and looks out at the woods. He remembers the closeness he had felt with Ping and how safe it seemed. He remembers how while Ping's head was bowed that all he could think of was that nothing really would escape that camp, and he had wanted to lift Ping's chin and lean in for a kiss. Shang closes his eyes, as he had when he shook the thought away that day.

He feels so stupid, as he remembers commenting, "You're alone in this camp." and Ping looks back up. "I know talking with someone of a higher rank can be intimidating, but if you need to confide in someone I'm here for you." He doesn't know why he said it, but he hates he did. "You can tell me anything. Nothing leaves this camp, and no one needs to know."

Shang could tell that Ping had wanted to say something, but then he mumbles over his shoulder. Shang would have said something if it weren't for Ping's sincerity, "Thank you, but I'm fine on my own." He remembers feeling as if a wall had been put up between them, and he watched as Ping walked past and went away." He could only sit beneath a tree of falling leaves, as he criticized himself for his thoughts, feelings, and lack of authority.

* * *

After they finish mediating and the cold rain begins to drizzle down they go back inside the memorable house. The halls are quiet, but Shang grows anxious as he searches for judging eyes. However, the only person seen is a dusting maid. "They will be in the dining room."

Shang looks to his brother and reaches out for them to stop, "What if this is a mistake? Mother will ask questions, and Yong will surely make a show of this."

Li Fu responds with tough support, "Whatever you decide to tell them is up to you, but you need to remember the circumstances." Shang nods before his brother continues with a hesitant, questioning look, "Would you rather let them think you've been with a soldier, or do you wish them to know you love someone who doesn't exist?"

Shang shakes his head, "Neither. Why can't we just tell them Ping is a girl." He sees how unsure his brother is, "If there were to be a contract, the only person to see their real name would be you."

The elder brother takes a contemplating breath, "Do you remember what grandfather told us."

Shang shakes his head, "He said a lot of things."

Li Fu puts a hand on his brother's shoulder, "There are three things that can't hide for long." Shang almost rolls his eyes. "The truth is one of them. Grandfather didn't even believe in keeping secrets, but I believe they are necessary."

His brother grows impatient, "Then let's just tell them her name is Ping."

The elder brother brings his hand back down to his side, "I will not lie. As we discussed, lies cannot hide for long." He continues down the hallway, and Shang follows in frustration.

They enter the dining room and it becomes quiet as they take their usual seats. Li Ya comments through the tense silence, "We were wondering if you would show."

Li Fu replies, "I apologize, Mother. I know we're late, but we had things to discuss."

She nods with a smile, "I hope it went well." There's no comment, so she turns to Li Li, "Pour the tea." Her daughter does it the same as last time, which angers the mother, "What did I say?"

The thirteen-year-old drops the tea kettle with a startled thud. She pulls her hands back and folds them, "You said not to pour the tea like that."

"And why?" her mother sternly asks.

Li Li looks down in shame, "You said it was gross and disrespectful." She looks back up with assurance, "But I don't understand why. It's faster to use both hands, and I try really hard to keep them both clean. If my hands are clean, it's not gross. If it's fast that should earn more respect." She begins to cry, "So, why do you keep telling me otherwise?"

The mother grows even sterner, "It's gross and disrespectful, because I'm telling you it's so."

The whimpering continues and Li Yong shakes his head, "Mother. Stop it."

"Stay out of this." Her eyes remain on her daughter, "She needs to learn."

The youngest son nearly shouts, "And how is she supposed to do that?" as his brothers do nothing but eat and watch. He points a hand to his sister, "She's never left the estate. She's never had a hard look at society. She only knows what we tell her, and you're not even explaining anything to her."

"She needs to learn what to do." The mother reaches for her tea, "That does not require explaining." The elder brother looks over the table in concern, as Li Li's fearful whimpers and Yong's disbelieving expression make the conversation look almost like a war.

"Yes, it does." Shang's angry eyes move away from his mother, as he turns to his little sister and tries to calm down, "What Mother is failing to explain, and why you don't understand this, is that most people only use their right hand." Li Li stops whimpering. "Since they usually only use their right, they will do dirty tasks with their left." He relaxes as he realizes he is helping. _I feared my anger for Mother would make me appear harsh._ "Most people don't have access to large amounts of water, and those who do may not feel the need to keep their hands as clean as you do."

His sister wipes the tears from her face, "Why not?"

"You're a rare case, Li Li." She keeps her eyes up with interest. "Most people have a hand that is weak or that they just don't do well with." Shang finds it harder and harder to explain, remembering that day at the camp and suddenly wishing Ping were there to explain it instead. He turns his head down and shakes it. _I know we agreed Ping was more real than Mulan, but I wish Ping were really real._ He takes a sad breath but then remembers the conversation at hand, "If you don't use something, you don't necessarily need to keep it clean. Most of society is right-handed, so use your right."

"How does someone only use one hand?" His sister clearly wants to learn and do better, but their mother huffs and shakes her head as if it's a stupid question.

Shang smiles, "That's a great question." His mother gives a disapproving look, but he continues with a faded smile, "Sadly, since I was born right-handed, I don't exactly know the answer to that question." Li Li's smile turns into a frown. "All I know is it will take time for you to adjust." She nods but stays quiet in sad disappointment. Shang continues to think of Ping, "One of my soldiers was left-handed, though," The room stares at him. "So, if you ever get the chance to see them, you can ask."

His little sister grins, "Thanks, Shang." but stays silent from then on.

The mother comments with angry concern, "Was this left-handed soldier of yours Ping?"

"Yes," Shang responds truthfully, but he soon regrets it.

"Why am I not surprised?" She takes a sip of tea with disdain.

Shang shakes his head, "What's the problem?"

She looks up and sets the teacup down with a clank, "Tell me, exactly how well do you know this soldier of yours?"

"I was his commanding officer," Shang replies, unsure of himself.

"Did you ever share a tent with him?" His younger brother's smile is shameless.

Shang shakes his head, "No. Ping had his own tent. Why does it matter?"

Li Yong shrugs, but the smile doesn't leave, "I'm just curious." He moves closer to the table, "So, this soldier, you never did anything with him?"

Shang shakes his head in irritation, "No. We fought together. That's all."

"Ah-huh. Right. Is that why you were dreaming about him?"

"That's enough," Li Ya commands with a hand to her forehead. She tries to ignore her youngest son's everlasting grin, "He does make a good point. What was the dream about?"

Shang shrugs uncomfortably, "I don't know. It was probably just a camp training session."

His mother stares him down in worry and interest, but she is hurt and infuriated by the lie. _This house holds a lot of secrets and dishonor, but lying has no part in it._ "Oh, really?" She notices Shang sit back in fear and shakes her head in skepticism. "Do you tell all of your soldiers that you love them?"

"I— What?" Shang is shocked but takes a calming breath. "No. Of course, not."

"Well, then." Her anger rises, but tears sting her eyes. "Tell me what the dream was really about." Shang opens his mouth to speak. "And don't tell me you don't know. I know that was a lie, and in this house we don't lie to each other. Speak the truth."

Shang shakes his head before resting in his hand, "Ping's a girl."

The looks around the table and on his mother's face prove the whisper is heard, but his mother sits in shock and disbelief and has to ask, "What?" almost in a whisper, herself.

Shang puts the hand down and tries to sit taller, "Ping's a girl."

Li Ya shakes her head, before she turns to her eldest son, "Is this true?"

Li Fu looks at Shang in disappointment, "From what I heard, it's rather complicated."

The mother looks back to Shang, "So, Ping is a girl." Her shock is laughable, but no one reacts as such. "And it was this Ping you were dreaming of?"

Shang hesitates to answer, "Yes." and sees a few tears drop onto his mother's face.

She walks over and wraps her arms around him tight, whispering into his ear, "I'm so proud of you." but it's loud enough for everyone to hear. Shang sees disappointment on the elder brother's face. _I should explain how it wasn't a lie to him later._ He turns to his younger brother in hopes of a better reaction, but all he sees is a frown which unknowingly hides fear and jealousy.

The mother lets go, "But the law—"

Shang interrupts, "They saved my life, so I saved theirs. The emperor said it was okay."

"For now," Li Fu responds with skepticism. "Knowing him, we could all be dead tomorrow."

Their mother responds with concern, "The emperor has been known for doing extreme things. How can we be sure he won't take back what he said and kill you both?"

Shang responds more confident than he is, "Ping saved the emperor's life. He needs to respect that, or he's going to have a lot of people asking a lot of questions."

Li Ya shakes her head, "People already ask questions. They know a woman saved him."

Shang had completely forgotten about how they were dressed at the time but is only silent for a moment, "The emperor said he was going to honor Ping as the soldier. It doesn't really make sense to me, but we can't question him. If I'm right he's going to make it look like a man saved him."

"That doesn't make any sense," their mother responds in confusion.

"Yes, it does." Shang sees a startled look on the elder brother's face. "You said some of your soldiers dressed as concubines to get into the palace and rescue the emperor." Everyone's eyes turn to him in interest, but they are nearly expressionless. "I think he's going to make everyone believe the soldier that rescued him was really only a man in disguise, just as the other soldiers were."

Shang stays quiet and ignores the disputes the rest have about whether or not it will happen, or just about what will happen at all. _It has to be that. It doesn't make sense any other way. I need to contact those other soldiers and see if they know anything._ His thoughts are disturbed when someone asks him something, but he's too preoccupied to hear it and stands to leave the room.

* * *

\- "Lies can't hide for long". We're just going to have to see if that's true. For those wondering, the other two things that can't hide for long are the moon and sun. It's some old Buddhist saying, and even though it was some "dogma" about how Nirvana would reveal itself, I don't see why the phrase wouldn't be taken literally as well. There was a time in my intro to pottery class some years ago when I would carve "Sun. Moon. Truth." in dragon script on literally everything I had crafted. Sometimes I would also include an image of a large eye. I don't know why, but maybe it signified how someone or something would always see or know what you're doing. Really, I was just fascinated with it, and that might just be it. It's not like knowing lies couldn't hide for long stopped me from lying, and the idea that someone would always know what I was doing definitely never kept me from keeping any secrets. Although, the idea did leave me a bit scared of any truths coming out.


	17. Nothing can be Done

**June 29** **th** **(Day 4, Early Afternoon)**

When Fa Zhou walks into Mulan's room he sees his mother's gaze upon his daughter, full of contemplation and concern, and goes to sit beside her, "How is she?"

"They've been coming in and out of their sleep," she comments in a sad, snuffly tone. "But I'm afraid during their moments of wakefulness they still refuse to eat."

Fa Zhou shakes his head in disbelief, as he sturdily rests his hands on his cane, "She saved China and the emperor. Why won't she just eat and save herself?" His voice is filled with sadness and anger but mostly regret and concern, "Doesn't she know the price of this behavior? The cost of it all?"

His mother's eyes glisten with truth, "I'm sure they know the price, but I also know they've been dealing with a lot. They may have done this to avoid other problems."

"The cost of this is her life," Fa Zhou responds angrily in a raspy voice as water fills his eyes. "What problems could she have that would make her want to risk her life?"

His mother stays silent for a moment, as they watch Mulan turn in bed and clench her hand onto the sheets. "I'm not completely sure. I didn't think they would take it this far."

"Mother—" She looks at him, but he pauses as Mulan's stomach loudly rumbles and she pulls her legs up to her abdomen. When the movement stops he continues, "Is there a reason why you're calling Mulan by they?" He turns his head back to her in suspicion.

Mulan's grandmother calmly replies, "It's just easier to say." as she turns her head to her now sleeping grandchild. "Have you sent for Li Shang yet?"

Fa Zhou looks past his afflicted daughter and down to his cane, "Yes. I sent the letter out midmorning. The general should receive it any time now."

"Then there is hope."

Fa Zhou looks at his smiling mother, but tears have stuck to her skin, "It will be alright." She turns to him as another tear falls, and he tries to reassure himself before he continues, "You said the general has made her eat before; he can make her eat again."

His mother comments with gleaming eyes, "I should have known it was more serious."

Her son comments with equal amounts of guilt and regret, "No. You're a great grandmother. You've been there for her when I couldn't be." He takes a hearty breath, "The truth is Mulan and I are not as close as we once were, and I fear it is my fault. I should have been there for her. I—" He coughs several times in a row before whispering, "I should've known something was wrong. Maybe if I was here for her, if I had supported her, then this wouldn't have happened."

His mother shakes her head, "I fear nothing could have stopped this." She looks to her unmoving grandchild in worry and stands. Fa Zhou notices his mother's concern and is motionless in fear, as she scurries over to his child and kneels down to listen. There's no sound heard, but when the grandmother holds a hand near their face air is felt. She shuts her eyes and almost thanks the ancestors, "They're still breathing, but I'm afraid nothing can be done until Li Shang arrives."

Fa Zhou takes a breath of relief, "What do we do until then?"

Grandmother Fa sits in the chair next to Mulan and holds their cold, exposed hand, "Go check on Li. I'm going to stay and see if I can reach them."

Fa Zhou nods before he slowly walks out of the room, tired and weak, and journeys to the dining room. He sits in his usual seat and observes the countless dishes, before his wife comes in and sets another one down. As she is about to turn back around, Fa Zhou clutches her wrist, "Li. What are you doing?" She turns back around, and he notices anxiety and fear in her expression. "Sit down. Talk with me." She does as he asks and immediately pours him a cup of tea, not remembering the last time he had a cup and knowing the doctor's orders. "Tell me what's wrong."

When he takes a sip she worries, "Mulan has to eat. I don't care what anyone says. She will wake up, she will be hungry, and she will eat." He sees his wife's eyes turn glossy. "No one starves themselves like this. She will ask for something. I'm just making sure whatever she asks for we will have." A couple tears drop to her face and he wipes them away.

He remarks with less of a raspy voice than it has been, "I know you mean well Li, but Mulan isn't being picky. She just won't eat, and I don't see how we can get her to eat a complete meal if she won't even eat a carrot."

"But we have to do something." More tears stream down her face as she takes many half-breaths. "This is all my fault. I should've done more. I should've paid closer attention to her."

Fa Zhou takes his wife's hand, "It's alright. We're not going to lose her."

"How can you be so sure," Fa Li asks through a whimper.

Her husband reassures her, "Nothing can be done right now, but I sent for the general this morning. He's gotten her to eat before; he can do it again." Fa Li doesn't speak, but their eyes meet with mutual concern. "Until he arrives could you do us all a favor and find a way to preserve some of this food?" She nods. "When you're done you can sit with me as we drink the tea."

Fa Li stands, "You're sure General Li Shang will respond?"

"If he didn't care about her, then he wouldn't have come so quick the first time." Fa Zhou pauses only for a second as a smile creeps to his lips. "Before he remembered the emperor's orders he had said he came to give the helmet back, but I'm pretty sure it's his. I just didn't say anything."

Fa Li smiles, "Well, if he does care about her and can actually make her eat, then we should try to get them married."

"Agreed," her husband responds, before he takes a sip of tea and she leaves the room.

* * *

Mulan sits up from bed as her stomach growls, and she brings a hand to her head. _If we let this happen— If we let you be yourself, will you eat?_ Her feet feel light on the ground as she makes it to the wardrobe, but she remains steady and smiles at the memorable outfit. _Please, try._ The smile slips when she sees the gauze and remembers the need to bind, but she doesn't let it ruin the moment. _No matter who or what you are, we are family._

Mulan whispers to herself, "It's almost too good to be true," and realizes how tight the binding really is as she attempts to say those words. She holds onto the wardrobe for support, as it's hard to breathe, but she soon adjusts to it and takes shallow breaths as she makes it to the mirror. The image is almost perfect, but it's not perfect enough. She steps on her tip-toes to add height and extends an arm to touch the mirror, wondering if the soldier is really her, before she stumbles back down and the picture is replaced with her memory as a bride. _You realize that was only a dream. They will never accept you._

Mulan tries to take a deep breath but fails and coughs instead. The bride watches with judgment but doesn't say a word. Mulan stands strong, as the comfort of the army training-robe gives her confidence, "I don't care whether or not it was real. If I go out there right now and eat something, then they won't care what I'm wearing."

 _They will never accept you. They can't and they won't._ Mulan walks away from the mirror and sits back on the bed, but she still imagines the bride's condescending expression. _Even if they understood, even if they wanted to help, they couldn't. No one can help us, and you know they won't._ Mulan sighs in acknowledgment. _They will only be concerned with what others think. They want a bride, not a crossdresser. You're not a son. They will expect you to find a husband and bear children._ There's a pause as Mulan hears footsteps, and she clasps her hands in worry. _Honestly. I don't even know why you bother._

Her grandmother moves past the white cloth and smiles to herself when she sees Mulan's attire, "How are you doing?"

Mulan watches as her grandmother sits in the chair next to the bed, and she shakes her head, puzzled, not remembering how it got there, "Fine." It comes as a whisper from the lack of breath, but she speaks again as she examines her green-trimmed sleeves, "You probably have questions." The idea of questions makes Mulan uncomfortable, but she is so focused on the individual words that the full sentence comes out rather easily. She bends her head down and stares at her tightened hands, "You must be so ashamed of me for doing this, when clearly it shouldn't be happening at all."

Her grandmother is only silent for a moment, before she reaches for Mulan's hand, "I don't care about what you wear. What concerns me is the situation."

"Which situation?" Mulan looks from their hands to her grandmother's sad eyes and worried expression. _I feel like I'm missing something._ Mulan observes intently for the answer.

"You're not well. You haven't been eating—"

Mulan takes her hand back, "But I'm fine. I've been fine. You don't need to be so concerned."

Grandmother Fa shakes her head, "You're not fine." She silently looks over the room, before Mulan's stomach rumbles. Mulan tries to cover the sound with her arms, but she's too late and her grandmother is more concerned than ever. "I don't understand how all of this could be happening and you still think you're fine, when you're clearly not okay."

Mulan places a hand to her head, "What do you want me to say?" Tears begin to form in her eyes as flashes of the fat on her chest and the consequences of eating enter her mind, "I'm trying to fix things. I'm trying to make myself feel better. I'm trying to make things okay again."

"Nothing's going to be okay if you end up dead." The grandmother doesn't like saying it, but she can't bear the thought of losing her only grandchild. "I realize this must be hard for you and that you think what you're doing is helping, but if you don't start eating—" The grandmother's mouth remains open but the words are delayed, "I'm afraid you won't survive."

"If you truly understand how hard this is for me, then you know why I can't stop." Mulan turns her head, afraid the tears will be seen, before she wipes them away with the light-brown sleeve.

"Mulan." Grandmother Fa sees her grandchild become still as their hand tightens, "Ping." They turn back around, as calm shock is apparent beneath their semi-flushed face. "You need to admit you have a problem." She sees Ping about to interrupt, "I don't care if it's your eating problem or—" She gestures to her grandchild's attire. "—whatever this is, but you need to admit you have a problem."

Ping quietens for a moment, "I didn't want to make a big deal out of it. I thought if I said anything, which I have and everyone said it was normal and I'd get used to it, then I would be told it was wrong and that I was being selfish." They remember the first time their mother instructed them to wear the dudou. _You'll get used to it._ "I thought that if I just didn't eat, then I'd feel comfortable enough to do what the family needed me to do, but—" Ping rubs their arm.

"It didn't turn out that way," Grandmother Fa solemnly smiles.

Ping huffs a laugh, "Did the outfit give it away?"

Grandmother Fa stays quiet as she reaches for her grandchild's hand once again. She takes a calming breath and briefly shuts her eyes before commenting, "If your—" The grandmother pauses, wondering which word to use. "If your identity is what's causing you to act in such unhealthy behavior, then you need to tell someone what's going on."

Ping smiles disbelievingly as they shake their head, before they stare at the blank, white sheets, "There's no way I could do that." They remember the hesitation before they finally cut their hair and left to the training camp. _Once I do this there's no turning back._ "I'm too much of a coward."

The grandmother squeezes Ping's hand, "You're not a coward. You willingly went off to war, you warned the soldiers of the Hun's survival after they left you behind, and you personally fought Shan Yu to save the emperor." Ping lifts their head back up, but only a frown and doubtful, wandering eyes are seen. "You're a hero of China. You're not a coward."

"But this is different," Ping almost interrupts. They take their hand back and hold it tightly to their other arm as a calming breath is attempted, "This isn't about proving my strength and courage to people who have already known me as a man. This is about convincing people who have always known me as—" Ping takes an unsteady breath, "this is about convincing people I'm not exactly what they and society think I should be."

"What are you then?"

Ping would have stayed silent if it weren't for their grandmother's calmness and sincerity, and they firmly clasp their hands before responding, "I'm— I— I don't like to talk about it." Their grandmother remains quiet, so they continue, "All I know is I like wearing what guys wear, I like being addressed as a man better, and I'm—" Ping slightly shakes in frustration but takes another breath and stutters as if cold, "I'm not really comfortable with myself at all... I'd rather not go into detail and I'm afraid if I admit this to anyone, then they will have questions and it will be expected for me to do so."

Ping sees their grandmother doesn't know what to say, so they stare down at their small, clasped hands, "Sometimes I convince myself it doesn't matter, that it will never be important enough to follow through." Ping thinks back to Mushu's comment on acting and dressing the part, and they wonder why they had acted as if it was such a foreign and absurd comment when it had actually been a common thought through the years. "Sometimes I think if I just work a little harder, if I act normal enough and keep my thoughts to myself, then one day the thoughts will go away, that I won't even remember I ever had them and I could just be comfortable doing what has become routine."

"How well has that worked in the past?" Grandmother Fa laughs with sweet concern.

"Not very well," Ping admits with a slight smile and sad eyes. "But I can't admit this to anyone—" They shake their head at the situation. "And I would appreciate it if you didn't say anything to anyone either."

Ping looks up to see their grandmother's expression, which seems calmer than expected, "I won't say anything to your mother or father, but you need to be willing to eat something."

Her grandchild almost laughs with sad fear and puts a hand to their head again, "I'm not doing that. I can't do that, and if you tell anyone why, then I will deny it."

Grandmother Fa shakes her head in confusion, "Why deny something that is so important?"

Ping smiles with wide, tired eyes, "Because I'm a coward, and I don't want to deal with their thoughts or questions." Tears begin to cloud their vision, but the smile remains. "I just want to be left alone. They can't know." They emphasize, "No one can know."

The grandmother takes a deep breath and shows a worried frown, "If you didn't want anyone to know, then why are you saying all of this to me?"

Ping takes an intense breath as tears fill their eyes, "Like you told me a long time ago, back when we talked in the barn after I had cut my hair with the sword—" Ping puts a hand to their heart for a second and takes a shallow, unexpected breath, after the absence of a beat followed by a sudden thud. They continue the hand's motion to their face to play off the incident, but they're fearful as they continue, "You said that someone needed to know. You said if I couldn't tell Mama or Baba, then I had to tell you." A tear falls to Ping's cheek, and they wipe it with their sleeve before taking another shallow breath, "So, I did." There's a couple quiet whimpers before they continue, "I hope you respect that enough to not say anything." Ping gulps, "Nothing can be done. No one can help me, and they won't want to." They slowly shake their head in worry, "Please, don't say anything to them."

The grandmother is silent for a moment, before she stares intently over the troubled child, "You realize how serious this is." It isn't a question, as she can tell Ping clearly understands, but there's no response so she continues, "If you don't eat, you will die."

Ping sniffles, "Maybe that's better than living like this." They see their grandmother's shocked expression and explain, "A life of cruel consequences to something as simple as eating, and a world where rules that could stop those consequences are hard to follow and are frowned upon."

Grandmother Fa takes unsteady breaths as tears fill her eyes, "You need help."

Ping's face is dry and they respond with cold anger, "I'm helping myself."

Their grandmother gulps, "We can't lose you." as her eyes shine with salty water.

Ping half-laughs, "You've already lost me. You don't know me. None of you do."

"Then why not let us?" A tear secretly escapes her eyes, "Dress the way you like. Come out and talk with us. Be honest and let us get to know you."

Ping shakes their head, "No. It's better this way."

Grandmother Fa stammers with tears, "How? How can this possibly be better?"

Ping comments with nonchalance, "No matter what happens, whether I eat or not, I can't handle this and I won't survive. This way no one will know what they've lost."

Their grandmother covers her mouth with a hand and shakes unnoticeably. She remembers Ping's feelings on being addressed as a man and acknowledges it, "I will know what's been lost." Ping looks up with confusion and interest. "You're my grandson. You're a warrior. You're smart and brave." She gulps, "You've survived so much. Please survive this."

A tear falls to Ping's cheek, and he responds in a rough tone, "I wish things could be different."

Grandmother Fa tries to smile, hopeful, "They can be." and grasps for his hand.

Ping takes a long, sad breath before shaking his head and reluctantly taking his hand away, "Nothing can be different unless the ancestors want it to be different."

Grandmother Fa holds her hands in worry, "What if they don't?"

"Then nothing will have changed." Ping turns away in regret, and his grandmother remains silent as she exits back into the hall.

She shuts her eyes as tears fill them with grief, and she sees Mushu lying next to Ping on the bed. "How is she? What did she say?" Grandmother Fa can only shake her head as tears fall and she stands from the unsteady chair to leave the room.

When she enters the dining room she's greeted with concerned looks and Fa Li asks, "What happened? Is she okay?"

Grandmother Fa slowly sits down as the conversation replays in her mind. She sniffles, "I talked to them, but I'm afraid they're even farther gone than before."

Fa Zhou tumbles his tea, "What do you mean?"

His mother looks to him with glossy eyes and a regretful expression, before she attempts to take a calming breath, "They don't want to get better." She looks down at the perfect table, "They think not eating will solve another problem of theirs."

Fa Li shakes her head and stands, "This nonsense ends now."

She begins toward the hall, but her mother-in-law retorts, "Wait." so she turns around in frustration. "Nothing can be done."

Fa Zhou grumbles as he glares at the tea, before he looks up at his wife, "My mother's right. We don't know what state she's is. Our best chance is to wait for Li Shang."

Fa Li reluctantly walks back to the table and sits, before her husband reassures her, "He has gotten her to eat before. He can get her to eat again." Fa Li nods with slight skepticism but really wants to believe it. Grandmother Fa stays silent, as she thinks of the ancestors and watches her son drink the tea.

* * *

\- After all of this time and this chapter is still so impactful. I was trying to think of a response after I had read Ping's conversation with their grandmother, but the only thing that came to my mind was the word 'true'. Time is irrelevant when it comes to pain, and the most dysphoric thing that could happen to Ping would still be happening for another 30 years, keeping in mind that one week may already feel like an eternity. Of course, Ping has been starving himself to delay it, and in the army the exercise was probably enough to make it stop every once in a while, but that doesn't make it go away. It's still there, just waiting to creep up on you and attack again, and unless you're either severely underweight or consistently malnourished in certain vitamins or minerals it will always be waiting to attack again. It's like, when it's finally gone and once you finally start to feel a little alright again, then bam— it's time for it to attack again. There's no sense of relief, because by the time you get there you're already so paranoid, anxious, and fearful that it may happen again. And thinking about it, Ping doesn't live in a time where he could get some birth control to kind of stop it, so the idea that's brought up where it would be easier to not survive rather than to live through that torture is amazingly true... You know... Theoretically. This is all just theoretical. I just do a lot of research. Yep.


	18. Messages

\- I love this chapter! Okay, so here's your real introduction to Yong. It's not just some one sentence thing like last time. You get his thoughts too now.

* * *

 **June 29** **th** **(Day 4, Late Afternoon)**

Shang blocks the sword, and a spark is seen as he pushes it toward his opponent, "Give it up, Li Yong. I'm the general of the imperial army. You're only a guard. You can't beat me. You won't win."

His younger brother steps back and swivels the weapons until they no longer touch, and he backs away before they circle each other, "Oh, but Brother, the battle's only begun."

Shang shakes his head, "What's your stake in this? Why challenge me?"

Li Yong laughs, "Elder Brother. Mother. You're back one day and they pick you. I have no one."

"What do you mean?" Shang steps forward, "What do they have to do with this?"

The older brother begins a swing, but Yong takes a step and blocks it, "You're gone all this time, only to come back and endlessly talk about this soldier of yours." He swings toward Shang's armored center, but the older brother steps back. Li Yong's eyes narrow, "I don't expect you to understand."

They stand still, "You're right. I don't." _What's wrong with him?_

The younger brother steps forward, "This girl of yours dressed as a man and put herself in danger." Another step is taken, "Once Mother realizes Ping's insanity she will have words with you."

Shang takes a few steps back and begins to circle his opponent, "Why do you care?"

Li Yong smirks, "I don't." He takes a few steps toward Shang, "What bothers me is that you were so insistent that this girl was a man, and then when it became convenient you admitted otherwise." He does several swings, "Oh, and Mother. Mother was so proud of her son, her son not having feelings for another man." Shang blocks each attempt, but his brother persists, "The look on her face and her voice so relieved, as if her previous thoughts were so horrid. He spouts, "She nearly wept of happiness." as he finds opportunity to push Shang away and reposition his weapon.

"What does any of this have to do with you?" Shang yells in confusion.

"It doesn't." Yong spits his sweat to the floor, before he looks back up and wipes the misplaced hair stands away from his heated forehead, "This has nothing to do with me. How could it?"

"Then why do you mention it," Shang forgets his sword, which hangs by his side, and steps away. "Why is this so important to you?"

His younger brother marches forward but keeps a safe distance, "You know Mother will never accept this soldier of yours."

Shang sees the desperate anger on his brother's face and takes a few more steps back. He shakes his head and takes a long, calming breath, "She already has."

"She's a crossdresser," Yong shouts. "Mother will never accept her."

"She's not a crossdresser." Shang steps forward, "If you call them that again—"

His brother interrupts with a stern laugh, "She dressed as a man for three years on a daily basis, and no one noticed she was a girl." He swings at his angered brother, "Admit it. She's a crossdresser."

Shang blocks, "They're not a crossdresser." and takes a swing at the younger brother, but Yong ducks to the side and cuts the back of Shang's knees. His brother grimaces from the pain of the slice as Yong kicks him to the ground, and he watches as his sword slides across the floor.

Yong walks over to the defeated general, whom turns onto his back to see the silver blade nearing his neck and his brother sneers, "I won."

Shang looks up at his brother's hatred in worry, "You broke the rules."

The younger brother seethes through his teeth, "There are no rules." He continues with a seemingly arrogant smile, "The rules of fair play do not apply in love and war." _If he understood, knew what it takes—_

"Then why do you disapprove of my love," Shang asks with interest. _This makes no sense._

"I don't disapprove." His little brother laughs angrily, "I'm trying to teach you a lesson."

Shang tries not to move or breathe, as the blade caresses his neck, "What lesson?"

Yong looks over his ignorant brother in irritation, "Hide what's not accepted."

"But it is accepted," Shang retorts. "Mother approves of them."

Shang's opponent tightens the grip of his weapon before inching it to his neck, "She approves as of now, but she won't. She will think over it and see her mistake, because society says it's wrong."

"How can you know for sure," Shang whispers before gulping a breath.

"I know, because I'm not ignorant." Yong shakes his own thoughts about speaking with his mother, knowing it will only be a mistake, "No one will understand. No one will think it's okay."

Shang interrupts, "But you understand. You think it's okay."

Yong looks disapprovingly down at his superior, "Because I am different, I understand." He sees his brother's confusion and fear, "I know what to hide. I know who can know. I know when it's safe." He takes a long, deep breath, "If you tell anyone anything, you need to keep tabs on them. You can't just admit to something outright, only to attempt to cover it up later. It doesn't work like that." Shang sees his little brother's eyes turn fearful, "You need to be careful. Both of you."

The training building's door opens to reveal their eldest brother, "What's going on here?"

Yong moves the sword away from his brother and stands, "Just a sparring lesson."

The elder brother nods but is concerned with the trickle of blood on Shang's neck and questions him with unseen worry, "Went well, I trust?"

Shang reaches for his sore neck, "Yeah." He looks at his younger brother, "I think the message came across very clear."

Yong remains calm, but he widens his eyes at Shang. _Don't get me into trouble._

The elder brother comments, "That's good to hear." and shakes off the bad feeling. "Shang, the messenger is outside. He has a letter for you."

Shang looks questioningly at the open door, before he begins out of the building. "What was that," Li Fu asks his youngest brother in fear and disapproval.

"Just what I said it was." Yong smugly smiles, "A sparring lesson."

The elder brother sees the back of Shang's pants cut and reddened with blood, before he turns back and takes an uneasy breath, "We don't want anyone else to die."

Yong laughs, "You make it sound like I've killed before."

Li Fu shifts his head, "I was actually referring to Father, but while we're on the subject, have you killed anyone?"

"Of course, not. I'm not stupid." He sees his brother become relieved, "Sounds fun, though. I should try it sometime."

The elder brother's eyes widen, "No. Don't." He takes a breath after realizing it had only been a joke. "This is serious."

Yong shrugs as they hear Shang shout, "This morning." They give each other questioning looks before heading outside. "Don't you know how important this is?"

The messenger shakes his head, "No, sir. Like most messengers, I am illiterate."

"But your job is very important," Shang huffs. "You must know that."

"I do, sir, and I would have been here sooner, but my horse lost a shoe and was exhausted and—"

Shang interrupts with fury, "Well, maybe if you took better care of your horse, then—"

"Shang. Give me the letter."

Shang hands the letter to the elder brother, who reads it intently as Shang looks at the messenger with hatred, "Do you realize what you've done?"

"Done?" The messenger looks confused, "I have done nothing, sir, but deliver the message. I am sorry if my untimeliness upsets you."

"Sorry won't fix this," Shang bears his teeth and tightens his hands into fists.

"Shang, stop arguing with the messenger." The elder brother is given an angered 'seriously' look. "You don't have time for this. The sun's about to set. You need to leave. Now."

The brother takes an acknowledging breath, "You're right." and puts a hand to his head. "I don't know what I was thinking." and starts to run down the path.

Li Fu shouts, "Good luck." before he looks upon the messenger, but he is more concerned with the horse. The messenger clearly doesn't keep it well watered, and it seems to even have trouble standing as its legs shake. "Go take your horse to the stable. They will take proper care of it while you rest here for the night." He sees a confused look on the messenger's face. "Meet me in the front office and then I will show you which guestroom you will sleep in tonight."

The messenger retorts, "But, sir. The letters—"

"Will not be delivered if your horse does not survive the journey," Li Fu interrupts.

The messenger seems to hesitate as he looks over the horse with almost no concern, but eventually he bows his head, "Of course, sir." and heads down the path as well.

The elder brother watches the horse struggle to follow its master down the path as his youngest brother asks, "What was the letter about," clearly not interested with the messenger's behavior.

The elder brother is immediately frustrated with the troublemaker, "It's none of your concern."

"It concerns me if it involves my brother," argues Yong.

Yong's given a look of skepticism, "He's more my brother than he is yours."

His brother's eyes glare as he disputes in spite, "He doesn't know that, and have I not cared for him as if I were?" His posture would be enough to intimidate anyone, if it had not been used so often.

Li Fu doesn't speak as he remembers Yong holding the sword to his brother's neck. _A general's neck. Would he have killed him had I not come in, and how did he beat Shang in the first place?_

Yong insists, "Hand me the letter for everyone's safety and concern."

Li Fu looks down on his half-brother, "No."

Yong shakes his head, "Fine." and begins down the path as well.

"Wait. Where are you going?"

Yong turns around, "I'm going out for the night. Don't expect me back 'til dawn."

"No." _I need to keep an eye on him._ "You've already been out three nights this week."

Li Yong scoffs, "I am my father's eldest son, and I will do as I please."

Li Fu shakes his head, "No. You know that's not how it is." He's given a look, "Father thought having one child per position fulfilled his duty, but he allowed Mother to have you in case he was wrong." He looks sternly down at Yong, "He was your father as much as mine. I've seen how you two were. You can't deny it." Yong looks down and nods. "We're all brothers. I'm the eldest. Don't forget it."

Yong lifts his head, "If Shang is as much my brother as he is yours, then show me the letter." and watches as his brother shakes his head in arrogant secretiveness. "Fine, then. See if I care."

The eldest brother watches as the youngest continues down the path. _Why does he have to be so difficult?_ He takes a breath in failure before he shouts, "Don't get into trouble."

Yong shouts back, "Don't worry. I will."

Li Fu takes a moment as a flash of Shang's cut neck crosses his mind and he fearfully commands, "Don't kill anyone."

Yong raises his left hand into the air and waves it carelessly, as he whispers to himself, "I don't need your permission to do anything." _And I will get my hands on that letter._


	19. Powerless

**June 29** **th** **(Day 4, Past Dusk)**

Grandmother Fa slowly walks up the staircase to the temple. The meeting with her grandson still plays in her mind, but she tries to remain calm as she enters the ancestors' home. She kneels down and prays, "Great Ancestor, I need to speak with you."

One of the stones glows bright within the darkness, before the head ancestor appears. The blue apparition sees her shakiness and looks down with concern and inquisitiveness, "What has happened?"

Grandmother Fa takes a stammering breath, "It's my grandchild."

The spirit brings a hand to his head in irritation and boredom, "What has she done now?"

The grandmother takes a moment to phrase the reply and the ancestor comes closer in curiosity, "Do you remember how they always preferred short hair as a child?"

The ancestor laughs mockingly, "Of course. How could I forget?" He continues with a shake of the head, "Those drag shows of hers, as Mushu would call them, were entertaining in her younger years, but this last incident concerns me."

Grandmother Fa remarks, "It concerns me as well." hesitant as she clasps her hands in worry.

"What has happened," the specter speaks with condescension.

"They're not comfortable with their body," tears intrude her eyes, "and they have stopped eating because of it." The ancestor's anger turns into a frown. "They said unless you wanted them to be male, that they'd rather die than go through what they see as problems. They don't believe they could survive it, even if they tried." Her voice sniffles as tears mark her face, "Please. Grant their request. I beg you."

The specter's mouth is left agape, before he turns away and stares at the blurred house within the shadowed landscape, "I am sorry, but there is nothing I can do." He remembers how Mulan would pray as a child and ask why she was a girl. _How did I not see this coming?_

He slides his head down his arm, as he hears the grandmother cry, "You're the head ancestor. There must be something, anything, you can do."

The blue ghost turns around, "I am sorry, but we don't hold that kind of power here. If we did Li would have borne more children, sons, and Mulan wouldn't even have this problem. We would have made sure of it, but nothing's that simple and it doesn't work that way."

"So, there is nothing you can do," Grandmother Fa whimpers and holds a hand to her mouth to steady her breathing, horrified of the situation and lack of resources.

The ancestor stares blankly down at the weeping woman, "I'm afraid so." realizing just how fragile everything is and regrets not being of more help.

"Then they're lost," exclaims the sorrowful woman. "If Li Shang isn't able to make them eat, like he has before, then they're lost to us."

"Is there no other way," the ancestor inquires with hope to make her stop crying.

The grandmother shakes her head, "It's not like we can shove the food down their throat." She adjusts her numb legs and sits on the cold floor, "I don't know what else I could do. I feel like I've tried everything to no avail."

The great ancestor moves a hand to his chin and thinks deeply, "You say this Li Shang has made her eat before?" The grandmother nods and takes a defeated breath but stops crying. "And you said before that he cares for her?"

"Yes," the grandmother whispers through the staggering wind.

"Tell him."

"Tell him what?" the grandmother questions as she stares up at the wise specter.

"Everything," the ancestor replies, sure of himself, but then he hesitates, "Well. Maybe not everything, but he needs to know why she's not eating if you hope he will convince her to."

The grandmother stares up in amazement, wondering if something so simple could help so much, but manages a, "Thank you." and the head ancestor nods before retreating back into his tombstone. She stands and steps down the steep hill as clouds darken their home.

* * *

\- "horrified of the situation and lack of resources". This is a reference to how hard it can be for transpeople to receive medical help. The technology and results of that technology may not be to their liking, or the cost of the medical procedures could potentially be too high. For instance, top surgery (whether it be mastectomy or augmentation) could be 8,000 to 11,000 or more dollars. According to Bing the testosterone hormone replace therapy shot could be around $100-$200 dollars per month, and if I remember this right it would be going on for a year or more. There was this one site that said estrogen can vary from $10-$85 per month depending on what form it's in (which if it's just an oral tablet, I guess that makes sense), but since the more expensive options for transguys can range to $200 or $300 dollars I have a hard time believing that. Also, for countries that have free healthcare and classify trans surgeries as medical rather than cosmetic, there may be a waiting list and even though I don't know how long/short it would be, it would still be a trade-off... I feel kind of stupid just leaving it there. I can already hear someone say, "You researched the specifics for all the other things. Why can't you just take two seconds to look up how long the waiting list is?" Okay. Okay. Alight... So, this ITV News article says that in England it can take 8 months to just have the initial appointment. Ouch. I hope the appointments following that are sooner. Okay, now that you've learned something, you may move on to the next chapter. You're welcome. Oh! And hey, guess who's in the next chapter?!


	20. When Secrets Kill

**June 29** **th** **(Day 4, Early Night)**

A few villages away the wind screams, and the broken door to the rundown hovel slams shut. Inside, the popular venue is dimly lit, but people move from rickety tables to rotten chairs without a care. The floor squeaks and Li Yong is watched carefully as he carries two glasses of baijiu to a cornered table. He sits down and the other man takes a drink, "Ah. That's good. Very good." He burps, "'scuse me." He holds the drink up a little, "Thanks for paying."

Yong shrugs, "No problem." He pauses only for a moment as he watches a guy in dark, torn clothes pass by. His pants are stained and a knife's handle sticks out of his big boots.

"Do you know him?" the man asks in a gruff voice.

Yong turns back and quickly replies, "Ah, yeah. He's a friend." before he unwittingly stares down at the table. He hears a grumble and looks up, "So. How have you been?"

The man takes a gulp of the substance, "Fine. I'm fine." He shakes his head, "How about you, you and your sister?"

"We're fine," Yong answers with hesitation. "She will be married soon."

"Ah. That's my girl," the man replies with a smile. "I hope she ends up with a wealthy family. There's no need for her to end up like her old man."

Yong pauses, "Maybe you've had enough to drink." as he takes a sip of his own.

"Ah. That's nonsense," the man disagrees as his smile fades. "Don't change the subject. I can tell there's something wrong. What is it?"

Yong thinks over his conversation with his elder brother. _I'm not any less Shang's brother just because we don't share the same father._ "Remind me, why did you give me up?"

His father flouts, "First off, if I hadn't you wouldn't even been born."

Yong shakes his head, "I know, but I want to know why."

The father takes a sobering breath, "I needed the money. Simple as that." His blue eyes sadden, "It's just a contract Son, but you're lucky your mother shrewd behind her husband's back. If she hadn't, you wouldn't be here."

Yong shuts his eyes in disbelief, "It wasn't like that." He pauses for a moment as his father looks at him in a dazed state, "He just didn't like his duty enough to have another child of his own."

"Which is something I don't understand," the man finishes off the baijiu and raises his arm for a refill. "I mean, how could he have someone as beautiful as your mother and just— pfew— act like that. I mean, that's how you know a man is crazy— is when he doesn't want a woman like that."

Li Yong becomes still as a statue and pierces his eyes at the man before him— his father, "You think he was crazy, only for him not liking women?"

The man looks confusingly over at his son, before he tries to take a drink from his empty cup. He lifts it above his head and stares an eye into it, before he pounds it back onto the table and shouts to the other side of the small, crowded building, "Bartender. I need another." It ends in a whisper and Yong's mouth is left agape as his eyebrows narrow.

"How long have you been here for?"

The man's eyes swirl around the room, "Ahh. Eh, how long is yesterday?"

Yong's eyes widen as he exclaims, "Yesterday?" He shakes his head as he gathers their empty glasses, "That's enough. I'm not killing you tonight. I have other plans."

The father grabs hold of his son's arm as Yong begins to stand and leave, "Don't. Son. Don't."

Yong takes an exasperated breath before hissing, "Stop calling me your son. I am not; you signed a contract, and if word gets out I bet you anything my mother will hire someone to kill you." The man lets go and looks extremely scared as he does so. Yong ignores it and walks through the maze of people until he reaches the bar, "Fill them up."

The bartender nods and when Yong receives them back he immediately pays. The nearly bald man smiles before nodding his head with gratitude, and the guy who passed by earlier takes one of the drinks, "Thank you very much."

Yong smiles, "How could I ever forget about you?" even if he'd bought both drinks for himself.

The guy looks around for watchful eyes and sees many, "Look. I need to talk to you. You mind if we step outside and talk in private?"

Yong raises an eyebrow, "Sure." They put down their half-finished drinks and use the side exit to enter the dark, narrow alley. "What's this about?"

The guy stares at the ground, "I'm getting married. This girl's family owns everything except property. It's a great opportunity for me." before he looks up with a halfcocked expression. "I won't be coming back to this bar. I hope you understand— I can't take any risks."

"I completely understand," Yong responds quietly, a little shocked.

"I thought I'd just tell you," the guy continues as he moves closer to Yong, "I didn't want to leave any unfinished business."

"So, this is the last time we'll see each other," Yong recognizes in a somewhat sad tone as he leans his back on the side of the other building.

"It is," the man replies before he moves in closer and gives Yong a kiss. He whispers, "We should make the most of it." and Yong nods before they continue. Throughout their passion the man keeps apologizing and saying sorry, and Yong has to keep reassuring him that he understands. They lay in the shadows as the man whispers into his ear, "I'm sorry." the final time.

"Don't worry. I—" Yong sees light refract off a shiny object as it rushes towards him, and he flips over to fend off the hand that holds the sharp object. "Don't do this." The words are hard to get out, as he is using all the strength he has left to defend himself.

The man replies, "I can't risk anything. No one can know." as he tries to use his weight to forward the knife, but when Yong's strength nears an end he readjusts his friend's hand so the knife stabs him instead. He moves away quickly to avoid being touched by the blood and sits in shock. He doesn't think of anything, and only the constant sorrys enter his mind as he catches his breath.

When he gets some clarity, he stands and takes several minutes to make the situation look more innocent. _I'm sorry. I can't take any risks._ He looks over the area several times, afraid that the smallest detail may give everything away, before he finally sees his clothes remain somewhat clean and goes back inside. He moves past several groups, before he makes it to the Mahjong table. There sits a large, unhealthy man who looks miserable and is probably losing the game. Yong slowly walks up and whispers into the man's ear, "I have a job for you. If you do it properly and stay quiet about it, then I will clear you of every debt you owe me."

He looks over the table of his failures, before he stands up and skeptically asks, "This will clear all the debt I owe you?" as it's clear he doesn't believe him. Yong nods. "Alright." He clearly thinks the work will be hard and boring. "What do you want me to do?" Yong gestures for him to follow, and they walk out to the alley. The man is horrified, as he sees the blood pooling out of the dead man, but he doesn't seem surprised, "Let me guess. He didn't like the rich guy that won all his money."

Yong almost laughs, "Yeah. Let's go with that."

The man looks at him suspiciously, before he takes a closer look and lifts his head back up, "The man's shirt wasn't cut where he was stabbed."

 _Figures. The one place I need his outfit to be cut isn't actually cut._ Yong looks at the man and reminds him, "Our deal involves your secrecy. Get rid of the body without saying a word and you're debt-free, or at least from me."

The man responds, "I will get it done, but I want money as well." and seems to be uncertain of his abilities. "Debt-free doesn't buy you much these days."

Yong nods in agreement, "I understand." and hands him the average win.

He smiles, "It will get done. You can count on me."

"I certainly hope so, because I'm leaving you to it. I need to get as far away from this as possible." The man only nods, and Yong walks over to where the weapon still lays on the ground. He kneels over it and shuts his eyes hard, "Why'd you have to be so stupid?" before picking up the weapon and trekking out of the alley.

* * *

\- I hate Yong's father.


	21. Confessions

**June 29** **th** **(Day 4, Late Night)**

When Shang finally makes it to the Fa residence his clothes are damp from the mist and sprinkling skies, and the rain becomes impatient as he brings his horse into the stable. He tries to hurry, but the horse neighs at the crackle of thunder and it takes time to steady it into the stall. By the time he nears the barn's exit the cold rain pours, and he has to run to the house's front entrance. Shang had hoped that they would be waiting for him and open the door immediately, but instead he has to knock and feels like an uncomfortable idiot as he does so. _This is an emergency and I'm knocking._ After a moment the door is opened by Fa Zhou, who gestures for Shang to come inside.

"You know, you didn't have to knock. We were expecting you."

"Yes," Shang answers, anxious, as he enters the office. "I'm sorry, and I'm sorry for being so late." He turns around and doesn't notice Fa Zhou's slight smile, "The messenger took his time, and I got lost in the dark."

"There's no need to apologize." Mulan's father almost feels like taking it back, but he sees how determined Shang was to get here. _Messengers. It's always the messengers._ "You're here now. That's all that matters."

"Right." Shang looks at the sheet-door. "Where is Mulan?" He imagines her stubborn as ever, maybe even in the training room ignoring the wounds she had earned from war, but the sudden frown on her father's face proves otherwise.

"She's in her room. She hardly even has the energy to leave her bed." His desperate voice and sad eyes make Shang unsteady. "She won't eat, and I don't know why. She won't tell us."

Shang takes an uneasy breath as he shuts his eyes for a moment. _I knew it was bad, but I didn't think it was this bad._ "I will see what I can do." He leaves the room, and no one objects as he makes his way to Mulan's room. Shang sees the grandmother waiting just outside, "How is she?"

Grandmother Fa's eyes glisten, "You need to know something." She continues in a whisper, "Mulan is doing this for a reason." She hesitates as Shang intently listens. "They think that not eating will solve another problem of theirs."

"Does this have anything to do with them wanting to be Ping," Shang questions.

The grandmother nods, "They told me they're not very comfortable with themselves and that they aren't eating because they think it will fix that." She sees Shang's concern and interest, "I don't know all the details." He sees tears form in the grandmother's eyes, "All I can say is that when you left they lacked supervision, and it seemed like they were trying to avoid us all."

Shang takes a defeated breath as he briefly twists his head to the side, "I'm afraid that was my fault." He sees the grandmother's worry, "I thought if she had some time alone, then she would gain a better understanding of who she is." Shang shakes his head and almost laughs angrily at himself, "I didn't think they would do this. I thought it would be okay."

Grandmother Fa understands his expression, "There's plenty of blame to go around. All of us feel the way you do right now." She pauses in fear, "Just tell me, can you make them eat again?"

Shang stares at the wrinkled door-cloth and nods, "I think I can." before he looks back at Mulan's grandmother. "It will probably be a slow process, but I have some tricks up my sleeve." Shang shakes his head, criticizing himself for using a phrase his brother had picked up on the streets. _I don't even know what it really means._

The grandmother smiles, but her eyes continue to shine, "I have faith in you. You can do this." Tears begin to fall, "If you can't, then I'm afraid no one can."

Shang briefly touches her shoulders in reassurance, "They will survive this. I promise." and when the grandmother smiles sadly with hope he leaves into Mulan's room. He sits in the chair next to the bed and grabs her hand, "Hey."

Mulan squints up at him, "Shang?" and shows a guilty smile when she sees his face.

Shang smiles back, "You know, when I said to do things that make you feel more comfortable with yourself, I didn't mean for you to stop eating." He squeezes her hand, afraid the moment will disappear, "In fact, I instructed you to eat every morning."

"I know," Mulan weakly whispers. "I was just so afraid."

 _I didn't think they could be afraid of anything._ He feels her hand shake and looks over her with concern. _Of course, even I get afraid. Everyone does sometimes._ He notices her dry eyes reddened from crying, "You know this won't solve your problems. I know you do, or else you wouldn't be this sad."

Mulan is too miserable to disagree, and she finds it hard to even think, "I couldn't handle it. I feared it would come back." She half-shuts her eyes, so she won't see his reaction. "It always does."

Shang sees her embarrassment, "What are you referring to?"

Mulan shakes her head, as she takes her hand away. _Do I really have to say it?_ "You've lived with females." She can't tell whether or not Shang understands what she's trying to say, "You could probably guess."

It takes a few seconds for Shang to piece it together, "Oh." He adjusts his seating, uncomfortable, as he clears his throat, "So, ah... When did you have it last?"

Mulan takes a shallow, stressed breath as she tries to gather her courage. "It's been an on and off thing for a few years," she admits, "I haven't actually had it for a few months," She isn't able to gauge Shang's expression. "But the longer it's gone the more you expect it to come back."

Shang nods, not really understanding but he trying to show he cares, "Well." He gives a questioning look. "I don't think eating one thing is going to trigger it." Mulan turns her eyes down in contemplation. "Do you know what it will do?" She doesn't respond. "Hey." Shang lifts her chin up, "You like being a soldier, don't you? You like to be strong, tough, and fast?"

Mulan almost rolls her eyes, "Yes." _He needs new material._

"Well," Shang replies with a smile. "How do you plan to stay strong if you don't eat?"

"Not eating is my strength," Mulan immediately replies, her voice a little tougher than before.

"I realize that," Shang criticizes himself for not remembering how careful the questions need to be worded. "But this is a different kind of strength. You can't pick up a sword with your mind." Mulan doesn't argue, so Shang continues, "Feel your arms. Tell me if you'd be able to pick up a sword now."

Mulan smirks with skepticism, but when she sits up and touches her arm the smile falls. Her arm is as limp as a tree branch and doesn't even change if she flexes. She squirms as she hurries to cover her biceps, uncomfortable with the situation, "I didn't think it was that bad."

Shang solemnly nods, "You never do." and observes her sickly pale skin. _I don't know why guys like women to wear such shades. It's both horrifying and disgusting._ He shakes the thought away, "I'm just afraid you may have taken it a little far this time." Mulan doesn't know what to say, so he offers, "How about I get you some water?"

Mulan looks around and finds the empty water-skin, "Thank you."

Shang only nods before leaving the room, and Mushu crawls out of hiding when he's gone. "You know, I worry about you sometimes."

Mulan doesn't speak as he climbs up the bed. _He probably knew the entire time._

"You know I'm your dragon, right?" Mulan doesn't speak. "You should have told me."

Mulan huffs a weak laugh, "Yeah. Right. There's no way you could have figured it out for yourself." Her stomach rumbles, and she reaches for it in pain, "You should have known."

"How could I have known?" Mushu grumbles with tears. "You never tell me anything."

"That's because nothing needed to be said," Mulan argues with the sad memories of feeling so alone in this. "You should have known. You were right there with me, for so many years." Her eyes shine, "You knew how I felt about being Ping. None of this should be a surprise."

Mushu shakes his head in confusion and places a hand out from his side, "Hold on here." He lifts his hand up as his eyes are briefly shut, "What does Ping have anything to do with this?"

Mulan's mouth is angrily left agape, but she accidentally yawns. "How do you not know?" Mulan gives him a look, "After all this time, how can you still not know?"

"What don't I know?" Mushu asks with dumfound wit and concern.

Mulan feels like yelling but can only growl a whisper, "Ping has everything to do with this." She continues, finding the situation really funny in a bad way and laughs, "I am Ping."

"Okay. Yeah. I know." Mushu looks over her anger in puzzlement, "I did give you the name."

 _How is he not getting it?_ "I like being Ping more than I like being Mulan."

Mushu's eyes wander, "Okay, and—" His hand instructs her to continue.

Mulan takes a deep breath, "And if I had to choose between being a man or a woman, I'd rather be a man." _Is my tiredness making this sound like nothing?_

Mushu doesn't react, "What's your point?" Mulan puts a hand to her head and gives up, as Mushu hides back under the bed and Shang enters the room.

He sits down and hands the water back to Mulan. She drinks it fiercely as he smiles, "Would you like a slice?" Mulan puts down the half-empty skin and sees a plate filled with cut carrots in the form of small circles. She's about to deny herself any, but then he takes the largest circle and eats it for himself. "Some philosophers believe that carrots are the reason rabbits see so well."

"Oh. Really?" Mulan smirks, not believing, but then the smell of the cut vegetables makes her dizzy and she clenches her teeth. _I never should have told him they smell more if they're cut._ "Why are you doing this? Why do you always eat in front of me when I don't want to?"

Shang pretends to look innocent, "I don't know what you're talking about." as he takes another large circle for himself. "I had a long ride, got lost and everything." He shrugs, "I'm just hungry."

Mulan laughs in irritation, "Yeah, right. That's why you're taking your sweet time eating them." She shakes her head at the situation, "You know carrots are my favorite."

"Okay. Fine. You caught me." He shows seriousness through his smile, "I care about you." and continues with sweet concern. "I care about you a lot, and whatever future we have—" He pauses as he sees stars sparkle in her cold eyes, "I just want to make sure you're there for it."

"Do you love me," Mulan whispers without thinking and immediately regrets it. She turns her head down in shame. _It's too early. He's only just learned about Mulan. I shouldn't have said anything._

"Yes," Shang responds but questions if he should.

Mulan looks back up, happy but in shock, "What about Ping?"

Shang sees tears in her eyes, "I love you for you, not for who you pretend to be. You're not like the other girls out there. So, what? There's nothing wrong with being who you are."

She shuts her eyes, but a few tears still manage to escape, "That wasn't just a dream, was it?"

Shang smiles as he wipes the tears from her face, "No. It wasn't."

Mulan stills for a second, "Wait, but that means— When you were with Ping—"

"Yes," he interrupts. "I've had my fantasies, just as you admitted to yours." Mulan smiles to herself and looks at him in disbelief. "We care about each other. In the end, that's all that matters." Mulan nods in agreement, and Shang hesitates, "The end will be sooner, though, if you don't eat."

Mulan takes an anxious breath and shakes her head, "I can't."

"You can," Shang insists as he separates the carrots so that only the small ones are on her side. "Do this for us. Do this for yourself." Mulan doesn't respond. "Do this and you can be Ping again."

Mulan gives him a look of disbelief, "My parents would never allow it." _No matter who or what you are, we are family._ The dream brings her to tears, "I wish they could— I wish they would accept me, for who I am, but it won't happen." She breathes, "It will never happen."

Shang comments with fear, angry at the situation, "It doesn't matter what they think." Mulan tries to stop crying. "I accept you, and I will allow it. You should as well."

Mulan takes a deep breath and stares at the small carrot circles, "If I eat this side, then I can be Ping again?" Shang nods, waiting for her to eat a few before he speaks.

"If you feel your parents won't understand, then it's something that can just be done in private... If they find out, I'll take the blame." He sees Mulan pick at the carrots slowly, a questioning smirk upon her face, "I'm not losing you. I can't and I won't." He continues to eat and nods for her to do the same.

* * *

\- What? No confession from Yong... somehow I thought there would be. All well. At least Shang is a little closer to admitting he'll give their relationship a chance, and somehow he's managed to temporarily convince Mulan that eating one thing won't provoke her inevitable torture.


	22. Nothing Happened

**June 30** **th** **(After Midnight, Day 5)**

Li Yong walks into the silent house and begins toward his room, but he's stopped by his brother, who opens the cloth-door to the study, "I thought you said you wouldn't be back until dawn."

Yong shrugs, "Things got rowdy. I got bored. I left."

The eldest brother looks over the youngest carefully, "What happened?"

Yong laughs, "Nothing." and looks off for a second. "What makes you think something happened?" He sees his brother move closer in concern. "Don't worry. Nothing did."

"Are you sure about that?" his brother asks through his tiredness. "You can tell me. It's fine."

"It's fine," Yong repeats with a smile. "I'm fine. Everything's okay."

"I doubt that." Li Fu takes another step and whispers, "Your posture is off. I know something happened." He nods to the room, "Come in and tell me about it."

"I'd rather not," Yong sneers. "I don't need your help. I'm fine."

"Come on. It will make you feel better." He's given a look. "I won't say a word to anyone."

Yong kicks the floor as he shuffles into the study, "Nothing happened."

Li Fu sits down, "I believe you."

"You do?" Yong questions. "Then why am I in here?"

His brother smiles with concern, "Because I know 'nothing' is code for 'something'." Yong takes an annoyed breath. "So, yes. I believe you when you say nothing happened, but I think we'd all feel a lot better if you told me what this nothing was."

Yong sees the empty desk. _He probably stayed up just for me._ He rolls his eyes, "You shouldn't worry about me so much."

"I don't." Li Fu looks over the rebel, "I believe you can take care of yourself."

Yong shakes his head, "Then it's not about me." and laughs. "You honestly think I killed someone." His smiles drops, "How could you ever think me capable of doing such a thing?"

The elder brother observes his glaring eyes, full of hurt, and regrets ever having their previous conversation, "I don't think you're capable. I just want to know what happened."

Yong huffs a laugh, "You want to know what happened?" and grins. "I'll tell you what happened." His eyes grow wide, "You see, I had this friend." The brother listens intently and watches every movement made. "This friend of mine pretty much said that I was more trouble than I was worth." His eyes shine of fire, "He said we'd never meet again, said he couldn't take any risks."

Li Fu comments in confusion, "He doesn't sound like a very nice friend."

Yong laughs, "Of course, not." He stares at the leather bag, which currently contains the sharp knife, "I know now, he was a real backstabber." He lifts his head back up, "Never could survive a fight, though."

"You fought him?" the elder brother asks in fear.

Yong shrugs, "All friends fight." He sees his brother become still with shock, "It's not my fault he couldn't choose his battles right."

"How is he?" Li Fu questions as a flash of Shang comes to mind. _He beat a general. I can only imagine what this poor kid must have endured._

Yong smirks, "He went out cold. Probably won't wake up in the morning." He's given a look, "What? I wasn't the only one drinking." Scenes of their drinking and all of their messing around enter his mind, and his smile slips. "Things will be fine." He picks up the bag and whispers, "They always are." before he leaves the room and heads for the darkness.

* * *

Wait. That's it? That can't be it. Wow. These last few chapters have been so much shorter than some of the others... In any case, you have to love how he just outright says the truth but that since it has double meanings nothing is truly confessed.


	23. The Reasons Why

**June 30** **th** **(Day 5, Past Dawn)**

Mulan sits up tiredly as the night plays through her mind. _What were you thinking? You should have never done it. I was so close to—_ She shakes the thought away and stands. _I'm not losing you._ Her steps stumble as she makes it to the wardrobe.

Mushu comments, "Maybe you should rest."

Mulan turns around, annoyed, "No. I can't just lie around and do nothing." and views her reflection in disappointment as she turns back to the opened wardrobe. There are many bright fabrics and only one outfit which she likes, but she finds it hard to decide what to wear and so goes to sit on the edge of the bed in unseen frustration. _Why does everything have to be so hard?_

Mushu glances at its open doors, "Do you want me to shut them, or are you planning on wearing something today?" He sees her tug on her shoulder-length hair and scurries up into the wardrobe himself. "Hmm. Let's see. Awe. Here we go."

Mulan watches as he climbs up the bed and lays down the brown and green item. She's afraid to even touch it and smiles sadly, "Mushu. I can't wear this."

"Says who?"

Mulan shrugs, "I don't know. Mama." She shakes her head, "I can't wear this. I'll get weird looks. People will ask questions."

"So what if they do?" Mushu continues sweetly, "You need this, and you can't avoid real clothes forever." Mulan looks over her grungy, blue attire and acknowledges he's right. "If anyone asks, just tell them you wanted to help out and didn't want to get your dresses dirty."

Mulan shakes her head in confusion, "So, suddenly, I care about dresses staying clean."

"No," The dragon responds with a trickster's smile. "But they will think you do." Her expression doesn't change. "Okay. Look. If you say this, they will think you're trying. They will think you're getting better— not that the way you dress is a problem— but it will get them off your back."

Mulan questions, "I have so many dresses, though. What makes you think they will buy this story at all, if there's always another available dress for the next day?"

Mushu shakes his head and laughs absurdly, "This isn't the army. The only piece of clothing getting washed every day is by you, and it's this same outfit you never wear around anyone else." She doesn't speak so he continues, "I know you want to wear it, so just wear it. It will make you feel better." Mulan fidgets with her hands, "I can't do that. Mama will see. Everyone will see." She imagines talking with her father about all of this and becomes more anxious, "I can't do it."

"Would you rather wear a dress," Mushu inquires, and he continues when she doesn't speak. "You like being a guy better. So, what? You're not the first and you certainly won't be the last."

Mulan is doubtful, "How could you possibly know that?"

Mushu smirks secretively, "Let's just say I dream of more than the past."

"I don't understand."

Mushu waves his hands, "You're not meant to. My point is that once you finally do this you will feel way better about the situation, and since you will find out their reactions... Well, that's one less thing on your mind."

Mulan takes a deep breath, "Okay. I'll wear it."

"There. Now we're talking."

She gives him a look of suspicion, "Why are you suddenly so supportive?"

"Well, that's easy." Mushu hesitates in unsureness, "I don't want you dead." He sees Mulan's eyes turn to the floor as her smile slips, "You can think whatever you want to about me. I don't care... The truth is I know just how serious this is." Mulan lifts up her head in interest. "And I know that if you don't express yourself, you will wind up doing something everyone will regret."

She shakes her head, "If you knew, then why put me through all of that?"

Mushu raises his claws, "I don't know. I— I just didn't want to believe it."

"All of this talk about wanting to get to know me, and— Why, exactly, did you not want to believe it?" She takes an emotional breath, "Is it really that horrible? Am I really so wrong for doing this?" Mushu shakes his head and starts to cry. "Then why? Why not believe if you knew?"

Mushu takes an uneasy breath, "Do you know what the mortality rate is for people like you?"

"No." Mulan looks over the small dragon in concern, "I don't know anyone else. I didn't think—"

"You didn't think there were." Mushu cries, "There's a reason for that." Her neutral expression tears him apart, "In this time, just about everyone like you has either killed themselves or been murdered." He sees her mouth open in shock. "The rest deny themselves and self-medicate."

"That's why you were so insistent," Mulan looks down at the wooden floor.

Mushu sniffles, "I just wanted what was best for you." but stops crying.

"So, this had nothing to do with your pedestal?" Mulan inquires.

"Well, that's another thing." Mushu admits, "I was afraid the ancestors would think I was being a bad guardian and take my pedestal away, which means I'd lose you too."

"So, which is this about?"

Mushu smiles, "Pff. You really need to ask?"

"Kind of. Yes," Mulan answers. _That's why he let me join the army in the first place._

"You should know better than that, girl." He sees Mulan still and her eyes fill with cold hatred. "What I mean to say," he laughs with uncomfortable fear. "Is that I care more about you than some old plank of wood. All shiny, so high up—"

"Mushu," Mulan exclaims in a whisper, as she sees his chin rest in his hand.

"Oh. Right." Mushu shakes his head, "Sorry. What were we talking about?"

Mulan laughs, "You were saying I mean more to you than a plank of wood." but doesn't smile.

"I do. I really do," Mushu asserts. "I mean, I do sleep in here half of the nights, if not more."

Mulan nods, "Yes. I suppose that's true."

Mushu smiles, "Come on. You better head to the washroom, before Shang wakes up. Something tells me he's going to need it after last night."

"What happened last night?"

Mushu shifts his head, "Ahh, he got lost on his way here. He only just told you last night. How do you not remember it?"

Mulan puts a hand to her head, "I don't remember a lot when I eat."

"Ah." Mushu comments, "I think it's supposed to be the other way around."

She shakes her head, "In any case, you're right. I need to take a bath."

"Yeah. You might have a better chance of them letting you wear it, if you remain clean and whatever else when you do." Mulan doesn't respond as she nears the doorframe. "I need you to promise me something, though."

"What is it," Mulan mutters as she turns her head.

He hesitates, "I don't want you binding today."

 _I nearly forgot._ She looks through what Mushu gave her and asks, "Why?"

"I'm letting you out of bed so you can help around the farm, but I don't want you to faint again." She gives him a puzzled look. _I fainted in my nightwear. I wasn't even binding..._

"There's a higher risk of you fainting if you bind." He sees her eyes move across the room in contemplation, "Think of it this way. It holds up your reasons for wearing this outfit more."

"Stay quiet."

"What? You're telling me to be quiet? I—"

"Shh, Mushu." She puts an ear up to the wrinkled door-sheet, "They're talking about me."

"They always talk about you," Mushu mutters as he crosses his arms.

Mulan shushes him again, before she hears her father ask, "What am I supposed to do?"

"Reason with her," her mother answers. "Tell her to eat or—"

"Or what?" Fa Zhou exclaims in stress. "We can't take anything from her. She doesn't enjoy anything enough." He sees his wife's desperate expression, "Anyway. The general is taking care of it."

"You call that taking care of it," Fa Li almost shouts. "She ate half a carrot."

Fa Zhou smirks, "It's better than any of us were doing."

Fa Li shakes her head, "No. It's not fast enough. If we don't take action, she will die."

Grandmother Fa comes into the dining room, "If we push her, then we will lose all of the progress Li Shang has made in only one night."

Fa Li takes a defeated breath, before she pours each of them a cup of tea, "I have to feed the chickens." and leaves the house without another word.

Mulan hears the conversation end, "All right. It's over." She looks back at Mushu, but no words are spoken before she walks past the white door-sheet. She sees her grandmother's eyes meet hers, but with a nod she's free to leave down the hall and into the washroom.

* * *

After Mulan is washed up and has put her clothes on, she looks over herself. _I'm surprised it even fits without binding._ Mulan examines the slight bump, which almost ruins the outfit she has so prized, before she moves her hands down her nearly nonexistent hips. Mulan shakes her head in disappointment and walks up to the door-cloth. _I know this is a moment I've been just waiting for, but how can I face them knowing I'm not what any of us wants?_

Mulan takes a deep breath as she gathers her courage, before she walks out of the room and steps right in front of her father. "Mulan." He looks so shocked, "What are you wearing?"

"Ah. I—" She looks over the army training-robe, surprised to see anyone so soon. _I had hoped this conversation could wait._ "I didn't want the dresses to get dirty." She notices her father's questioning look and tugs at her hair, "I wanted to help around the farm. We still need to weed the fields." She moves her hand down her black hair and watches with wide eyes, as multiple strands are left in her hand. _Oh, no._ She rolls the hair up and hides it in her hand as she lowers her arm to the side, but she knows it's too late and that it has already been seen.

"Should I be worried?" Fa Zhou asks with sad eyes.

"No, no." Mulan starts off in fear but continues with a smile, "It's just from the water. My hair tends to shed after baths, but I'm fine. Really." She's given a questioning look. "I didn't even brush my hair yet today. Trust me. I'm fine."

Fa Zhou grumbles, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Baba. I'm fine." _I'm not even lying. Water does make my hair shed more._

"Okay." He looks over his old army robe of which she wears, "But I want you to eat something."

Mulan shakes her head, "I just ate last night."

"You need to eat something," her father insists.

Mulan laughs, "Why waste time with food when I could be working?"

"The fields can wait." Fa Zhou puts a hand on his daughter's shoulder, "You need to take care of yourself. You won't get anything done if you don't have the energy to do it."

Mulan backs away, which forces her father's hand back down, "Forget it. I'm not eating." She sees his tortured eyes. "We have work to do, and I fully intend to get it done."

"You won't be able to get anything done on an empty stomach."

Mulan grins and watches as she retorts, "I have before. I will again." She feels light on her feet, and even though her stomach gnaws at her, she couldn't feel better. "It's called discipline. It's strength."

Her father shakes his head, "It's insanity. If you keep starving yourself you will die."

"Maybe I'd rather be dead." _I don't even know how I survived this long._ She sees her father become still as his eyes swell with tears. "I don't expect you to understand."

"I understand," her father replies with a raspy tone, "that you aren't happy, but I don't know what I could possibly do to help."

 _Say you will accept me, for who I am. Tell me no matter what I am, we are family and you care. Ask me why I'm doing this. Ask me what I want. Ask me how I feel about all of this for once._

Fa Zhou sees his daughter's eyes scan the floor, "Tell me what I can do to help."

Mulan shakes her head as thoughts of the real situation enter her mind. _Dressing how I like or being called something else won't fix this._ "You can't help me. No one can help me."

Fa Zhou takes a loud breath, "We have to try. It's just food. What are you so afraid of?" Mulan stays quiet, not really understanding how the conversation got back to food. "You have to try to eat."

"I don't have to do anything." She sees her father about to speak, "It's my body. I can do whatever I want to it, and if it makes me feel better—"

Her father interrupts, "Not eating isn't going to make you feel better. I don't know what your problem is," He coughs. "But not eating isn't going to fix anything. It will only make things worse."

"If I eat, everything will get worse."

"You need to eat something," her father pleads as he holds onto his cane for strength.

Mulan shakes her head and can only think of the nightmare as Shang walks up confidently and asks, "What's going on here?"

Fa Zhou shakes his head, "She doesn't want to eat."

Mulan crosses her arms over her chest, "I didn't see the point." Shang turns to her. "We need to finish weeding the fields, and eating is a waste of time."

Shang shakes his head in tired irritation, but as he sees her attire he remembers her real reason for not eating. "If you want to work, then grab some water and go to the fields."

Fa Zhou stands in shock as he watches his malnourished daughter leave to her room, "What are you doing? You know she needs to eat."

Shang nods, "I'm aware—"

Fa Zhou interrupts, "She's losing her hair."

"Losing hair is a common thing for him— them." Shang shakes his head, "She isn't actually doing that bad, though." Shang sees Fa Zhou's doubt and shock. "I have seen her in worse shape. In the army we did almost constant exercises, and since she didn't eat she got really skinny." Fa Zhou doesn't speak. "I realize this is hard for you. It's hard for me too, but she will survive this. She always does."

They turn, as they see Mulan come back out of her room with a basket and water-skin. Fa Zhou whispers after she walks past them, "Just because she survived those times, it does not mean she will this time." Shang sees tears fall from his eyes, "She doesn't care if she dies, and I worry so much for her."

Shang questions if he should comment, "She won't want to live if she thinks she's responsible for your death. You need to think of yourself. Don't worry about Mulan. She is getting better."

Fa Zhou shakes his head, "She isn't getting better. She won't eat. She won't say why."

"I know you feel like she isn't getting better and that things are going nowhere, but you need to know this has to be a slow process. If we try to force her into eating, then she will stop eating entirely and avoid all of us." He pauses, as he sees Fa Zhou is listening intently; however, it's clear his mind is somewhere else. "She has actually confided in me about this, but she won't trust any of us if we force her into eating anything. You can't save someone who doesn't want to be. She has to save herself."

Fa Zhou thinks about asking why his daughter is behaving like this, but he's too tired from the stress and only responds, "I hope you know what you're doing."

Shang half-smiles, "I do. Trust me."

Fa Zhou replies, "I could never trust anyone with my daughter's life." He sees Shang look to the floor in concern. "But if I have to I'm glad it's you."

Shang looks up in slight surprise, "Thank you, sir." Fa Zhou only nods before walking back to the dining room. Shang smiles as he gathers his new clothes for the day and heads to the washroom, but as he remembers his brother's comment on being careful he can only wonder if he's doing his best with the situation. _What if Fa Zhou is right? What if they don't get better this time?_

* * *

\- So, here's a newsflash. Just because someone with anorexia eats, and let's say they do it regularly, it does not mean by any means that they are better. When an anorexic person eats you're curing the symptom, not the problem. I mean, it's pretty much the same for anything else. Once an alcoholic recovers that doesn't mean they're no longer an alcoholic. If you once had a preexisting condition (let's say adult acne or cancer), it stays on your record and I hear it may prevent you from getting "good" healthcare. That's the problem with this current system, is that the healthy get good insurance but once they get sick they're cut off. I swear, it seems like a scam to me... and I don't want to worry anyone to the point where they won't get help, but "severe" mental illnesses such as bipolar disorder or eating disorders are also considered to be preexisting conditions. Yeah. Let's just have those bipolar people not afford their meds. Let's see how that works... I would also include something about eating disorders, but as far as I'm aware treatment isn't usually covered under any type of health-plan... Yeah... but there's no reason to worry about that, right? Not when the next chapter ought to be exciting... No. I know it's serious, but if it can't currently be helped, then it's best to just move on until it can be.


	24. I Know What You Did Last Night

**June 30** **th** **(Day 5, Late Morning)**

Li Yong lies in bed as whispers interrupt his sleep. They're hard to make out at first, but he knows the voices well. _It's the two younger maids. They'll gossip about anything._ His eyes open tiredly as he gives up on the rest.

"A murder, really?"

His eyes widen, and he listens intently, "Yes. Isn't it absolutely horrible? Apparently a man was ranting about it in the bar over drinks." He sits up in stress and moves a hand down his face. "Two men overheard and checked it out. They came here this morning to tell Master Li Fu."

"Are they still here?"

Yong picks up the first clean thing he can find and puts it on. "Yes. They and that other man are being questioned."

"How much is known?" Yong moves toward the door-cloth but stops, as he realizes he doesn't know if he's a suspect or not.

"The man only said that he was told his debts would be paid off if he cleaned up the mess. He said if he said who did it, then he'd be killed." Yong takes a breath of relief and steps into the hallway. The maids become deathly silent as he's seen, and they only murmur more words as he leaves.

Yong walks through the family dining room, the kitchen, and the guest dining room, before he stands in a hallway filled with guards. Each one stands by a room, and Yong keeps a blank expression as he walks up to the older warrior he usually works with, "What's going on?"

The guard shifts his eyes to both ends of the hallway, "Murder."

"Why wasn't I informed about this?"

The guard stays quiet for a moment, "I'm guarding the accused... He's crying."

"Well, he should be upset." _He didn't finish the job, and now he got caught._

"He has a lot to say about you," the guard grumbles with unseen concern.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The guard whispers, "I know what you did last night."

"What?" Yong can't help but smile, "I didn't do anything last night."

"I know what you did last night," the guard repeats.

"Pff, come on Liu Xun. You know me. Do you honestly think I could do something like this?"

"Yes." The guard sees Yong's smile drop, "Especially since I never told you what I knew you did last night." Yong briefly looks down at the floor. "You're a smart kid. I don't see how you could have done something so foolish."

"It's not like I wanted to." He sees Liu Xun's skepticism, "He was my friend. We were close, really close." Yong wipes the newly fallen tears from his face, "I didn't have a choice. I had to."

The guard stays silent as Li Fu exits the office at the end of the hall, "Yong. What are you doing here?" He sees his brother's wet eyelashes as he turns around, "Were— Were you crying?"

"No," Yong replies with a low tone but knows he won't be very convincing.

The elder brother walks over and puts a hand on his shoulder, "It's alright. It's a sad time for everyone." They begin to walk out of the guest-wing, "I actually knew this guy. He had only come in the other day with this girl's father to arrange a marriage contract." He takes a sad breath, "I actually had to send for them, just so we know for sure whose body it is."

"But don't you already know," Yong questions.

"Not yet." They exit the family dining room and move past the well, "Those guys back there claimed to recognize him, but I haven't even seen the body yet. That's what we're doing now." Yong stays quiet as they walk down the path and past the stable. There's a wooden wagon and several people waiting. Yong remembers that the only family his friend had was his mother, so aside from her the rest must be the bride's. This includes the father, mother, and the bride herself.

Only his friend's mother seems upset, as he and his brother walk closer to the wagon. The bride is silent and frowns as her mother whispers in her ear. She stands straighter after the command, and her father grumbles in irritation of the entire situation. The man who stands next to the wagon bows to Li Fu's arrival, "The body, as requested."

When Li Fu gives a commanding nod the man takes the blood-soaked sheet off of the corpse. Yong thought he could handle seeing his dead friend, but as the memories flash, his eyes fill with tears and he gulps. He remembers how they had met. He had just beaten Chang at another game of Mahjong and had offered to buy him a drink. _He questioned it at first, but he didn't say no. Eventually he explained that he only gambled to earn money to pay for his land and that I was leaving him with none._ Yong remembers indulging in a drink before responding, "Well, if you want, you could probably do something for me to pay it off." He took another drink, conscious of the possibility that he could be rejected and the entire bar would be told his secret. "I could give you the money back."

The strong man raises an eyebrow, "What exactly would I be doing?"

Li Yong gulps down the rest of his drink, "It's loud in here. How about we get some fresh air, and I'll explain my proposition in the ally."

Chang shifts his eyes around the unusually uncrowded room, before he replies, "Okay." and follows Yong through the side exit. "So, what's the deal? How do I get my money back?"

Yong smiles nervously as he walks closer to him, and Chang backs up to the wall in uncertainty. Yong places his hands on the building near Chang's shoulders and whispers, "Spend the night with me. If you stay quiet about it, then I'll pay you twice the amount you came in with."

He lets out a warm breath, "Ah, what—" He clears his throat, "What ex—exactly would we be doing?" Yong gives him a compassionate smirk before leaning in for a slow, savoring kiss. When he sees Chang's face an unexpected smile is seen, but it quickly slips as he looks around for prying eyes. "I'm sorry, but I— I can't do this. I don't want to get into any trouble. I can't."

Yong takes a step back but reassures, "You won't get into trouble. No one will see you; this ally is known for horrible things, and the only people who use it are criminals."

Chang gives a questioning look, "Aren't you worried someone will think you're a criminal?"

Yong shakes his head, "No. My brother is the acting magistrate. I could get away with murder if I wanted to." and laughs as he moves closer to him, but when Chang gives him a kiss he freezes the memory as the reality of the situation hits. He covers his mouth when he moves his eyes over his friend's remains, and tears fall as their last night together enters his mind.

"What's wrong with him?" the bride's father asks with aggression. It's only by this point that Yong notices that even his dead friend's mother isn't truly crying, so he tries to calm down but finds himself unable to as the memories repeat in his mind.

"Excuse my brother," Li Fu responds, "He spent a lot of time down at the bar. It's likely that they knew each other." The mother stays silent as the bride's family gives Yong weird looks. The magistrate only squeezes his youngest brother's shoulder in hopes to comfort as he looks over to the bride's family, "Is this the man your daughter was meant to marry?"

The father nods, "Yes." before he shakes his head. "How did he manage to die the night before we were to move in?"

The wagon man hesitates to pick up the shirt, "It appears he was stabbed."

"Under the shirt?" He clearly looks confused, "That doesn't make any sense."

"Well, forgive me," the man replies. "But it would seem by the state of the body that he was being intimate with someone at or around the time of the murder."

Yong immediately stops crying and steps forward as he interrupts the somewhat shocked looks, "How do you know he didn't just get drunk, take off his shirt, and let someone stab him?"

The man hesitates, "I'd rather not go into detail, but there appear to be other signs."

Yong puts a hand to his head and smiles an anxious breath, "Then why isn't someone out looking for whichever girl he tried to rape." The bride's family looks appalled, "Clearly someone was trying to defend themselves. People aren't just murdered; there's a reason, and I know for a fact he had no debts. This is the only thing that makes sense."

The wagon man looks around before shaking his head, "No. No. It wasn't that."

"How could you know for sure?" Yong nearly shouts.

The man shuts his eyes for a moment, before he glances at the bride's confused family and looks back to Yong. He also turns to see the victim's mother but quickly looks away, "As I was collecting the body, I noticed some things." He pauses for a brief second, "I think the person he was being intimate with was a man."

Shocked looks appear around him, before Yong smiles and shakes his head, "You've got to be kidding me." He emphasizes, "It was an alley." He sees several suspicious and scared looks but continues, "You don't know it was him. It could have been anyone, not to mention the prostitutes that would reside there."

The man is about to reply, but the bride's father interrupts, "How did you know it was an alley? No one said anything about an alley." He looks back to the wagon man and asks, "Was it an alley?" The man merely nods, leaving the bride's father to glare back at Yong.

"Oh." Yong scratches his arm and turns to see the fear in his brother's eyes, "It was just a lucky guess." He turns back to the bride's father, "There's a side door that leads out to the alley. Some of the guys liked going out there for some fresh air and to talk. It just makes sense."

The father gives an intimidating look, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm very sure," Yong frowns. "I mean, how else could I have known?" His eyes move to the dead body, "Sure. We were friends, but—"

"That's enough," the elder brother commands. He gives Yong a look to stay quiet, before he looks over the bride's family, "May I speak to you in private?" The father nods and they follow Li Fu a ways out from the road, but he can still see his brother leaning over the wagon to mourn his friend. _Could this be the same friend he fought last night?_ The magistrate takes a calming breath as he focuses on the family in front of him, "I realize this must be a very confusing situation, but we must talk about the contract." His audience remains silent, so he looks at the father, "Assuming that your daughter and this man didn't consummate their marriage before he would have moved in, the marriage is considered invalid and therefore you have a choice."

He pauses to make sure his assumption isn't incorrect, but no one speaks, "As the agreement states, you can move onto their lands and give over your finances, or you can marry your daughter off to another suitor which will allow her to bear children right away instead of the waiting period a widowed wife is usually required." No one speaks, "Technically, as the ownership of his lands died with him it should be taken away, but I know how hard your situation must be," He glances over to the mother of the dead man. "And I would rather not have a grieving mother be thrown into the streets." He looks over them carefully, as he calculates the risk. "It's your choice, and you should know, as the father of the widowed bride, you would control the land and money until she's able to remarry."

Yong looks over the corpse, and his memories begin to darken. Every drink, every conversation, and every kiss are cast with shadows, and he can't help but replay all of the signs in his mind. The mother looks from her dead son to him, "I know what you did last night."

All of Yong's thoughts pause as he tries to laugh, but only the word, "What?" escapes his lips and the tension remains.

She solemnly smiles, "My son really cared about you. You know that?"

Yong almost rolls his eyes, "If he truly cared about me, then he wouldn't have tried to kill me."

The mother shakes her head, "I don't understand. He said he only went to say goodbye."

"Yeah, well," Yong gives off a bored look. "He told me that too, but it wasn't true. Was it?"

The mother shuts her eyes for a second, "Why would he do that? It doesn't make sense."

"He said he couldn't take any risks." The memory reenters his mind and he begins to cry, "I don't understand. I thought I meant something to him. I thought—"

The mother looks over him with sympathy, "This must be really hard for you."

Yong gulps, "It is." and he covers his mouth as an attempt to control his breathing.

The mother stays quiet for a moment, before she questions, "Do you know who would have wanted to end his life?" and Yong looks up to see her sad, hopeful eyes.

He shakes his head, "No. I don't." and no more words are spoken as both are left, hearts broken.

* * *

\- There's nothing like being extra paranoid when people say they know, when they may actually not know. Honestly, I think this entire chapter is great, but my favorite part is that last line. It's just a bit poetic, you know, with the use of rhyme and metaphors or whatever I used. I really like it.


	25. Smart, Brave, and Beautiful

**June 30** **th** **(Day 5, Noon)**

Shang holds the small dog in his arms as he walks to the second barley field. Almost all of the green has disappeared, but he's shocked to find the basket only half filled with weeds. "Did you sneak back into the house to get a different basket?"

"Ah, no." Mulan tiredly pulls at a weed, but the green tears from the roots and she has to dig with her fingers so the destructive force can't come back. "Not this time."

The dog barks as Shang notices Mulan sitting hopelessly on the ground, "Maybe you would get more done if you knelt instead."

"I normally do," Mulan comments as she finishes digging out the root and puts the dry, cold soil back in its hole. "After I finish weeding the fields we should begin to harvest the barley." She pauses as she struggles to pull multiple weeds out from the ground, "It's getting colder."

Shang looks around the sunlit estate as he feels the sun's warm rays. A cool wind blows over them, and he sees Mulan shiver, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

Shang watches as she rubs the sleeves of the training-robe, "So, you're wearing it."

"Oh. Yeah." A picture of Mushu enters her mind, "I wasn't going to, but then I did." There's silence as she tugs at another weed, "I couldn't bring myself to wear anything else."

"That's understandable." Shang sits down and smiles, as he remembers Mulan's comment to their father the other night, "I wouldn't want to wear a dress either."

Mulan smiles back, but it slips as the previous night replays in her mind, "Did you really mean what you said?" She hesitates in doubt, "Do you actually love me, or did you only say that so I would eat?"

Shang lifts a hand to her face, "Yes, I was trying to get you to eat, but I wasn't lying when I said I cared for you." He looks into her lonely eyes, "I mean it. I love you."

Mulan reaches for his hand and brings it down, and she stares at the touch as she responds, "I don't understand why you like me— why you care so much." She looks up and sees his worried expression, "If you love Ping, he's not capable of offering you what other men can. If you love Mulan, I'm not healthy enough to offer you children." She shakes her head, "Even if I survive all of this, I don't understand what I could ever offer you." Shang stays silent in contemplation. "What are you doing this for? What do you want from me?" She whispers, "Why do you love me?"

"I love you," Shang half-smiles, "because you're smart, brave, and beautiful." He sees Mulan look at the ground in uncertainty, "I'm doing this because I care about you—"

"But I can't offer you anything," Mulan grins wide in disbelief. "So why bother?" She sees Shang take a calming breath. _Great. Now I made him mad. Good job. Just brilliant._ She's shocked to see Shang come closer, giving a kiss. Mulan kisses him back, but as they separate she's left in shock.

Shang's mouth is left cracked open, as if that were the best thing he's ever experienced. He sees Mulan relax a little, "I'm doing this, because I love you."

 _But love doesn't matter._ Mulan shifts her eyes around, "Don't you want children?" She sees a stressed expression on his face. "I can't guarantee that for you."

"Neither could a man," Shang spouts. He raises a hand to his head, "I want to marry someone who can hold up a conversation with me... I'd rather have you than some fragile, porcelain doll."

Mulan shuts her eyes for a second, "I still don't understand." She can tell Shang doesn't like her doubt, but she wants answers, "Why get married at all? You're the general; you could just go find a real man, and the two of you could just stay in the army together."

Shang almost smiles. _If it weren't for all the bloodshed, it would actually be kind of romantic._ "The only man I want is you."

Mulan tiredly shakes her head, "But Ping isn't a real man."

"I disagree." Shang smiles, "You were the first to climb the pole and retrieve the arrow, you became my fastest and strongest soldier, and you never gave up or quit." Mulan stays quiet, even though she has counter-arguments for each. "You're smart, brave, and beautiful. That's all anyone could ever ask for in a man."

Mulan smirks, "Beautiful isn't a man's trait, Shang."

"Oh, sorry." He smiles, "Would you prefer 'handsome'?"

"Shang. How do you think people would react if you called a man beautiful or handsome?"

He shrugs, "I imagine they would be really confused, maybe ask me to repeat what I had said, and then I'd have to kiss you to confirm their suspicions." He sees Mulan grin as her eyes shut, and his smile slips when he hears her stomach growl. He looks down to the dog, "Oh, hey." He looks back up, "This little guy's been trying to get your attention, but you've been neglecting him since you got back."

Mulan looks down on the white and brown-spotted dog with interest, "He's still here, but how?" It crosses her mind that the dog may just be imaginary, but she doesn't dare to even think it. "I haven't seen him." The dog gives a sad expression, "He hasn't been around."

"He has been around," Shang comments with concern. "You just didn't notice."

Mulan pets the dog in hesitation to make sure it's real, and the dog barks happily as he jumps into Mulan's lap. She smiles, "I'm sorry, Little Brother." and hugs him. "I won't ignore you again."

Shang smiles as he watches them bond, but then he sees the basket's lack of weeds. _She may have gotten out of bed, but they're still weak._ He looks over her thin arms and begins to open his mouth as he hears her stomach growl again, but he shuts it and stays silent as he remembers the first intervention the soldiers had with Ping.

They had rested a while from training one day. _It was planned, because everyone was worried._ Shang remembers how even Yao managed to stay quiet in deep concern, as they all sat around the small fire. He doesn't remember exactly what everyone had said, but he does recall that even the soldiers who've never spoken to Ping had something to say. _In fact, after one of them told Ping his behavior was going to get them all killed, Ping just stood and walked away. He didn't really speak to anyone for the rest of that week, and I think he actually trained more and ate less._

Shang shakes his head. _That was a disaster. It can't happen again._ He sees Mulan's slight smile mask her sad eyes. _It has to be their choice._ He tries to smile back with kindness, "How about I help you clear away the rest of these weeds?" but knows he probably failed.

Mulan sets the dog back onto the ground, before she looks around at her lack of progress, "I guess I could use some help."

She had mumbled it, but Shang hears it perfectly and smiles brightly as he hurries to begin clearing the field for her. No one really speaks, but Shang can't help but feel he's responsible for her and needs to take care of her. _I wonder if she's even been able to heal from that stab wound, since she hasn't really been eating._ He takes a moment to look over her tired and weakened state, and he has to take a deep breath to keep himself from saying his concerns.

When half of the weeds are gone and the basket is nearly full Shang is relieved to hear Mulan speak, "I don't know how it got like this. I don't know how I became such a failure." She whispers, "I used to be so strong." but Shang hears every word.

He takes a calming breath, "You're not a failure." He pauses. "In fact, for how little you've been eating, you're actually doing great."

Mulan shakes her head, "This isn't great. This is horrible, and it's definitely not good enough."

Shang pulls a few more weeds, "If you don't think it's good enough, then do better.

"And how am I supposed to do that?" She's clearly frustrated, "I have been trying."

Shang stares at the ground, "It might help if you eat more than a carrot a week."

"I have been eating more than a carrot a week." _Maybe not much more, but I'm still eating—_

"I'm sure you have," Shang replies, only half believing her insistent statement. "But when was the last time you had something as satisfying as meat?"

Mulan feels like rolling her eyes, "Meat isn't as satisfying to me as it is to you."

Shang continues to work, "Maybe, but it will help you become strong again." He turns to her and smiles, "Wouldn't you want strong to be added back to the things I absolutely adore about you?"

Mulan smiles, "Maybe." but turns her head down in an attempt to hide it.

There's silence for a second, as Shang pulls more weeds and sees Mulan struggle to do the same. "I'm not trying to make you do anything you don't want to, but it would mean a lot to me if you would." She stays quiet. "I just want you to be strong and happy... I don't like to see you like this."

Mulan stops working, "I know, and I know I'm not okay." She stares down and away as a tear falls from her face. "But I'm out of options, and I know nothing can fix this. It won't be okay."

"It will be." Shang stops weeding, "You just need faith."

"Faith in what?" Mulan nearly shouts in irritation. "The ancestors? The universe? The emperor?" Shang doesn't speak as he questions the commonly used phrase himself. "The emperor is unpredictable, we don't even know anything beyond The Great Wall, and the ancestors— Well," She hesitates as Shang gives a questioning look in concern. "I don't think they would be very proud of my behavior."

"There's nothing wrong with your behavior," Shang looks down as he pulls more weeds. "You're just a little different. There's nothing wrong with that."

Mulan laughs, "Right. That's why everyone else acts like I'm such a disgrace." She sees Shang look back up. "The only reason you think my behavior is okay is because you knew me as a man first, and then you saw how awkward and terrible I was at being a woman." Shang opens his mouth to speak, but Mulan doesn't let him. "Face it. My behavior isn't accepted, and it won't be because I'm not a man. I'm just some crazy—" _Woman._ She gulps, "Girl, who is making a big deal out of nothing."

"You're not crazy." The dog barks as Shang holds onto Mulan's hand tightly, "And if you're not comfortable with yourself, then that's a big deal. It's not nothing."

"Then why doesn't anyone else see it as a big deal?" She continues before Shang can respond, "My mother thinks I'm being so unreasonable. My father and Mushu think it's just something that's happening and either not a big deal or something I should be able to push through."

"Wait." Shang closes his eyes in confusion, "Who's Mu Shu?"

Mulan places a hand to her head, realizing the huge mistake she had just made, "It's a long story, and he doesn't need to be talked about right now." She sees Shang's interest but ignores it, "My point is that no one thinks my behavior is acceptable. Even those who understand the severity of the situation don't take it seriously. You're the only one who thinks this is okay, so I must be crazy."

"What about your grandmother? She's been taking this seriously."

"Of course, that helps." She sees Shang's questioning look. "Apparently the morning before I saw the matchmaker, she tested Cri Kee's luck by walking into the middle of a busy road."

"And who is Cri Kee?"

"Oh," Mulan feels like laughing but is too sad, so she remains serious instead. "Cri Kee is the cricket. You may have seen him around. He's small and blue."

"Huh. You don't see those every day." Mulan almost replies, saying that she does, but Shang continues, "We're getting off track." Mulan nods in agreement and is glad his questions have stopped there, even though she's not too fond of this topic either. "Your grandmother may be a little too faithful, and I may be biased since I did meet Ping first, but just because we're the only ones okay with you doesn't mean you're crazy or unreasonable."

"Then why is everyone acting like I am?"

Mulan watches carefully as Shang continues weeding the field and wishes she were strong enough to do the task as well as he can. Shang, however, is distracted by the situation, and his eyes move away from the task to gauge her expression, "People don't like change."

"What does that have to do with my sanity?"

"People act like you're being unreasonable, because they don't like change." When Shang sees her face relax he focuses back on the weeds, "It will take time, but really they just have to get used to you."

"Like you have." Mulan stares down at the weeds and hears Shang say something, but it's not heard. _I've done this for years. You'd think I'd be better at it. You are better at it._ Mulan tiredly reaches for a weed, but when she pulls, the green separates from the plant and the roots remain. She slowly opens her hand in failure to reveal the helpless remains. _You're just weak. How do I—_ Mulan glances at a worried Shang, "What were you saying about me getting stronger?"

He smiles, "I just thought if you had a little meat tonight, then it could help with your strength."

 _No. Don't. You can't honestly think—_ "How much would I have to eat?"

Shang continues to work the weeds in uncertainty, "How would you feel about being handed a full bowl but knowing I'd finish the second half if you couldn't?"

"Only the second half?"

Shang looks at Mulan, expecting that to just be a joke on a serious matter, but only a neutral expression is seen. He opens his mouth a second before speaking, and looks toward the ground, "If you try this I expect you to eat something... I thought you'd feel more comfortable knowing you didn't have to finish all of it, but if you'd prefer to just be given a small amount and be expected to finish—"

"No." Mulan's voice is sudden and anxious, but she continues in a calm, defenseless tone, "You were right. I'd rather do the first thing."

Shang tries not to smile and continues to work, "So. Should I let your mother know what to cook for tonight, then?"

"I'm sorry. No." _You can't do this to us._ "May I have some time to think about it?"

"Of course," Shang replies almost too suddenly, before devoting the rest of his energy to clearing the field. Mulan can only watch herself struggle to do the same, before she gives up entirely. Shang suggests, "Maybe you should return to the house and rest. I can handle this."

She nods and begins to slowly walk away. _You're weak and lazy. You're crazy. "You're not a soldier anymore."_ Mulan's mouth becomes dry, and she looks down to watch her feet. _"You are now and will always be a woman. Don't forget it."_ Mulan holds her breath before gulping down unseen tears. _"You need to admit you have a problem." Honestly. I don't even know why you bother. Don't do this to us._ Mulan lifts her head up and the sun's light shines upon her, but she can only feel shame and regret. _I can't admit to anything. They cannot know._

* * *

\- So, here's a funny thing. When I was writing this story, I had completely forgotten about the dog until this chapter. Her neglect of the dog was in no way intentional, but in the end it worked. I know from personal experience that if I'm going through too much, then I end up not giving my plants enough attention. It's sad really. Back in late middle school I would talk to my plants and give them all sorts of attention, and they would grow twice as much or as soon as they were supposed to. Now that I haven't really been giving my plants a ton of attention, they're lucky to even grow. It's almost like they don't want to live in a place where I'm too... emotional? to give them any real attention. I'll still water them and everything usually, but it's clearly not the same.

\- Anyway. Now that all 25 posted chapters have been edited I will be re-posting them. After that all I have to do is keep editing chapters. Ugh. Well, at least you will have some new content. Really. I should have given it to you sooner, as these next 46 chapters have just been sitting in the document for at least a year, just itching to be read. I didn't, though, because when I first tried posting all of the chapters there was a glitch, then I found the story wasn't really receiving a lot of interest, and then when I came back to it I figured I should edit it, as I would have to reread everything to remember exactly what all had happened. Now that this is over, however, you may expect 'new' chapters to be posted soon. I know at least one of you read all 25 current chapters, as someone reviewed the story at it's current whole on chapter 25, so hopefully you will be excited for the new chapters and not just be completely irritated with me that it's been so long. Sorry. I really must say that. I'm sorry.


	26. Be Honest

**June 30** **th** **(Day 5, Early Afternoon)**

When Mulan enters the dining room she sees her father sitting at the table struggling to pour a cup of tea, "Here. Let me do that."

Her tone holds no worry and seems more negative than anything, but her father still says, "Thank You." He sees her shake as she pours it into the cup, "How are you today?"

"I'm fine." Mulan sits down at the sight of an unsteady world. _Maybe I'm just thirsty._

Fa Zhou watches as his daughter pours some tea for herself, "Be honest with me." He glimpses tired fear in her eyes, "Why are you really wearing that?" but the fear disappears.

Mulan shrugs to delay but still replies, "I like it, and I like wearing it."

Fa Zhou sets his tea to the side, "You are aware, you can't wear that all the time?"

"I'm aware," Mulan whispers to the table. She sees her reflection and remembers how the guys in the army would make fun of how she didn't bother to bring a spare outfit, especially since she was of a higher class and would have been expected to. _I clearly hadn't thought it through. In order to wash the training-robe I actually had to wear nothing but the armor. Not that I could have brought another outfit even if I wanted to. It was hard enough finding one outfit around here in my size, let alone a spare._ Mulan shakes her head and takes a long sip of tea, as she tries to forget the memories.

"If you had something to tell me, you would wouldn't you?"

Mulan notices her father's sad, curious expression, "Do you think I have something to tell?"

"I think," her father replies in a gravelly voice, "that you aren't telling us everything."

"Why should I? Isn't Mother's goal to make me conform to society's expectations?" She stares down at her cup, "Are you not trying to get me married to bear sons, so our family may prosper and so we may keep our land and title?"

Fa Zhou slowly shakes his head, "You won't bear children if you don't eat."

"I don't care." Mulan finishes her cup, "I didn't ask for any of this."

"Why are you wearing that?" Mulan sees her father's shocked expression turn thoughtful, before she looks toward the hallway and sees her mother's arms crossed.

Mulan pours herself another cup of tea, "I worked with Shang in the fields. I didn't want to get the dress dirty, so I just wore this instead." She knows her father knows she lied, but she doesn't care and by the look on his face she would say he seems to understand.

"You have more than one dress."

"I know I do."

"Then why are you wearing that?"

Mulan takes a sip of tea as she watches her mother's confusion turn to anger, "I couldn't remember how often we clean clothes here, so I didn't want to get the dresses dirty."

Her mother shakes her head, "You are fully aware that we clean our own clothes when it needs to get done. It's not very hard to just wash clothes when you have none left."

Mulan carelessly speaks through her tiredness, "What's your point?"

"You have no excuse for wearing that thing," her mother responds in frustration of her daughter's lack of respect and obedience.

"Let her wear it." Mulan watches her mother's shock and refills her father's tea after he finally finishes it. "She's worn it all day. I don't see why she should change into a dress when the day's almost over." Fa Zhou notices his wife's lack of response, "If you want Mulan to wear a dress tomorrow, then make sure she does, but tonight let her wear this."

"Alright." Fa Li looks into Mulan's eyes, "You can wear that thing tonight, but I want you wearing proper attire tomorrow." She sees her daughter's eyes dart to the table, "I want you wearing a dress tomorrow. Do you understand me?"

"I understand." _I understand that I'm not leaving my room tomorrow. I'll just wash my nightwear, wear it to sleep, and just say I need to rest tomorrow._

"Are you sure?" her mother commands.

"I'm sure." _If I have to get water or use the trench, then I'll just wear that._

"Then we understand each other." Her mother smiles smugly as she crosses the room and exits.

 _Actually, I'm fairly certain that you don't understand me, so we don't understand each other._

Noise is heard in the kitchen, before her father asks, "Why didn't you tell her the truth?"

"What truth would that be?" She sees her father's hesitation to reply. "What I say, what I feel, that doesn't matter here. What's the point in being honest if what you say doesn't matter?"

Fa Zhou shakes his head, "In order for a family to work we need to be honest with each other."

"Really?" Mulan asks. "Because my experience has been the exact opposite." She sees her father's concern, "Whenever I explain my thoughts or feelings everyone just pretends like it doesn't matter, saying I'm being unreasonable and acting crazy."

"You're not crazy."

"So, I'm unreasonable?"

"No." Her father takes a deep breath before reaching for his tea, "You're not crazy, and you're not unreasonable." He takes a sip. "It's just that families only work if everyone is doing their part, and you haven't exactly been contributing to yours."

"So, you're saying I'm lazy."

"No." Fa Zhou looks over his frail child, "You're not lazy. You've been doing well for your condition." He sees Mulan look down at the table in contemplative irritation. "I was just saying that families only work well if each person does their duties. I'm the man of the house. I try my hardest to bring in money and take care of the paperwork. Your mother keeps the house in order, and if she has time to make and sell items to people then that's fine." He takes another sip of tea, "Our family owns land, so we all try our best to keep the land, our farm, in decent condition. Your grandmother doesn't have strength to help with the farm, but she does her best by handing knowledge down to us and by keeping our family together."

"Where do I fit into all of this?" Mulan asks with sad hesitance.

Fa Zhou slightly smiles with knowledge, "You are our only child, so it is your duty to carry on our title and property. As the daughter you will do this by getting a husband and bearing children."

Mulan looks up as if that were a surprise, "What if I don't want to be the daughter?"

"What?" her father asks in confusion.

She turns her head down and holds the tea, "Sorry. It's nothing. Just a crazy, stupid thought."

Mulan isn't able to think, as she sees her father grow suspicious, "No. What did you mean?"

Her mouth becomes dry, so she finishes the tea in her cup before taking a deep breath of courage, "I was just thinking—" Mulan sees the seriousness in her father's expression, "Do I have to completely focus on finding a husband. I mean, can't I do more to help?"

"You are already helping, Mulan." He finishes his cup of tea and Mulan pours them each a cup until the kettle empties. "The fields haven't looked this great since you left." He sees his daughter's sad and anxious expression, "You are helping, and if you want to continue to help, then you must fulfill your duties. I know it may not feel like that much help, but by completing your duties you are doing more than all of us. Right now your duties are actually the most important in our family."

Mulan shuts her eyes, "I know my duties are important." but opens them again to prevent tears. "I just don't think I'm ready yet." She sees her father's concern, "I'm just not comfortable with the idea yet. I mean, just the thought of going through the process of having a child scares me. Well, actually," Mulan briefly rubs the back of her neck, "maybe that's the wrong word, but—"

Her father interrupts her, "I'm sure a lot of women feel the way you do right now, but the reality is that most women your age have borne at least three children. You are ready for this."

Mulan places a hand to her head. _That's just the problem. I feel like I shouldn't be—_ "Can't it wait just a little while longer?" She sees her father's patience diminish, "I mean— I was just thinking that since in a few months people will think you have a son, maybe I could help you with paper work or contracts, the people."

"No. That is out of the question."

"But, why? You taught me to read and write. If you aren't going to let me help, then why did you even bother teaching me?"

Fa Zhou takes a deep breath to relax, as the truth washes over him and his eyes gleam with tears, "I taught you how to read and write, because I knew I'd never have a son." Mulan stays quiet as a sudden frown appears on her face. "Even before I married, I was looking forward to teaching my son how to read and write." He coughs. "I was thrilled with the idea of passing down some uncommon skill. When Li and I realized it would be unlikely for us to have another child I decided to teach you." Tears escape his eyes, "I thought that even a woman should be able to understand what's going on around her, if she ever came upon anything written." He sees Mulan look up in uncertainty, "Maybe I was wrong. If I never taught you, then maybe you would have behaved more like a woman."

"This isn't your fault." _It would have happened anyway._

Fa Zhou tries to calm down, "I feel like it is. Here you are, asking to help out with a man's job, when you should be enacting the duties of a daughter." Mulan stays silent and can only look down at her reflection in shame. "You must know I'm not going to be around forever. If you want to save this family, then you need find a husband to take over the property."

"I know."

"What's going on here?"

Mulan turns around to see her mother coming in with some pre-made heated food. The rich smell makes her feel sick, so she turns her head in disgust, "Father was just encouraging me to follow my duties as a woman and the daughter of this household."

Fa Zhou looks over at his daughter, recognizing her tone of voice and wondering if he had done something wrong. He hears his wife comment, "It's about time." before he sees a smile upon her face. Fa Li sets the food on the table and looks directly at Mulan, "You should eat something."

"Forget that." Mulan pushes the food even farther away than it had been before turning towards her mother, "I'm tired, so I think I'm just going to rest." She sees her mother about to make a comment, so she stands to leave but sudden dizziness overtakes her and she has to catch herself on the table.

"Are you okay?" her father's eyes widen with deep concern.

"Of course, she isn't okay," responds Fa Li. "She hasn't eaten and she's clearly weak. She's—"

"Can't you be quiet?" Mulan had tried to yell, but her voice is weak and it's only heard because of her tone, "May I go one minute without people talking about me? 'She did this.' 'She said that.' She, she, she. I'm sick and tired of it. Can I, please, just go one day without—" _Without being called that._ Mulan puts a hand to her head, "I'm sorry. I'm just tired. May I go get some rest?"

"Alright," her father replies with concern. "Go do that." Mulan takes her hand from the table, and she walks slowly and unsteadily to the hallway. She tries to use its surface to hold herself up, but it doesn't work well. Mulan, however, finds her room and stumbles to her bed before falling asleep.

* * *

"Be honest with me. How did you know him?"

Li Yong fidgets in the chair of his brother's office, "We were just friends."

"Was this the same friend you fought with?"

"Does it matter?" Yong sees his brother's suspicion, before he glances down at the papers on the desk which separates them, "I didn't kill anyone."

"I never said you did."

Yong takes a frustrated breath and laughs, "Then why are you questioning me?"

His brother remains calm but shows his seriousness, "You're my brother. I'd like to know why you fell apart out there when you didn't even cry after hearing of Father's death."

Yong rolls his eyes, "Is that what this is about? You think I'm emotionally unstable?"

Li Fu clasps his hands, "I think you're not telling me something."

"Like what?"

His brother pauses only for a second, "Like whom he is. How do you know him?"

Yong crosses his arms, "I told you. He was a friend."

"I know you said that." His brother readjusts some of the papers, "What I don't understand is that he treated you so horribly and you still cried enormously."

Yong sits up taller, "So, what? Is it against the law to cry now?"

"No." His brother replies, "I'm just having a hard time understanding why you would."

Yong shakes his head as his eyes begin to shine, "He was my first." He notices his brother's expression change and takes a breath. "He was my first real friend."

Li Fu's posture relaxes, "So, you cried because he was your first real friend?"

"Yeah." Yong squirms in is seat, "What were you expecting?"

"I didn't know what to think."

Yong looks at the papers, "Why? Am I a suspect or something?"

"No." Li Fu tries to smile, "You know that can't happen." His brother doesn't respond and only looks doubtful. "But you did say you two fought and accidents do happen, so I just thought—"

"You thought I killed him."

The elder brother hesitates, "I didn't say that."

"Because I didn't kill anyone." He moves to the edge of the seat, "You know I didn't."

Li Fu almost feels like laughing, since Yong's intimidation happens so often it's just about useless on him. _But I know he's lying._ "I know."

"Good." The youngest brother smirks, before he stands and leaves the room.

The eldest is left behind, and he sits in contemplation before gathering some items and leaving the room. He walks down the long hall until he reaches the only guard left, "Liu Xun, do you have anything to report?"

The strong guard turns his head to the side for a second, "Nothing I haven't already said." He looks back to him, "I can only assume you talked with your brother."

"I did."

Li Fu watches as the guard moves his eyes down the empty hall, "He came out of your office with proud confidence. You would almost think that he got away with his crime." Li Fu gives the man a look, and he continues with hesitation, "I only mean that we know he did it. I know you can't say he did it unless you wish to lose your property and title, but haven't you done anything at all? He can't just go around murdering people. You need to make sure it doesn't happen again."

"It won't," Li Fu responds with more confidence than he has. "They were friends. _They had a fight._ I'm sure it was only an accident."

Liu Xun takes a stressed breath, "With all due respect sir, your brother just walked out of your office, acting as if he just got away with murder." He sees his employer's expression change, "So, unless there's something you're not saying, I can only imagine he will do something like this again."

"He won't." Li Fu commands, "Now, step out of the way so I may speak with this man." The guard does as he's ordered, and Li Fu takes a seat in the bedroom next to a small table.

The accused sits on the bed, face red from tears, and he watches carefully as the magistrate sets down the ink, quill, and parchment, "What are you doing with that?"

Li Fu looks over the unhealthy man, "I want you to be honest with me. If you answer all of my questions, then I might decide to cut you a deal."

"What kind of deal?" the man sniffles. "If I tell you anything I'm dead."

"You're going to be dead in any case," Li Fu replies in an even tone. "But if you answer my questions, then I will help you write a letter to your family."

The man looks up in brief silence, "I don't have a family."

"Really?" Li Fu raises his eyebrows as he judges the man to be in his thirties, "What about a girlfriend?" The man shakes his head. "A boyfriend?"

The man's jaw gapes open with disgust, "I'm not immoral."

Li Fu almost shrugs off the tension but stops himself, "Well, you're immoral enough to gamble and drink." He sees the man stare down to the floor in guilt. "But I didn't ask you if you had a boyfriend because of your immorality. I asked because I believe that when you die you shouldn't leave things unsaid." The man stays quiet. "What about friends. Do you have any friends?"

The man shakes his head, "Not really."

"Well, there must be someone. Someone you knew when you were young, or even an enemy."

The man lifts up his head, "Well, I do owe a lot of people money, the bartender for one. Maybe I could let them know I'm dying and that they can raid my house as payment."

"Wouldn't they do that anyway?"

The man shrugs, "Probably, but this way it won't be a surprise."

Li Fu hesitates, "That's an idea, but I want this letter to mean something. Is there anyone you really wish you could say something to, something you don't think you could leave alone in peace?"

The man darts his eyes around the room before looking at the magistrate, "Well. There is your brother, but if you're handing it to him then I'm not sure."

Li Fu looks towards the door-cloth, "I can get someone else to hand it to him." He turns back to the accused, "If I agree to write the letter, then will you answer my questions?" The man hesitates before nodding. "Great. So, can you tell me what specifically happened that night?"

The man looks down and clasps his hands, "It started off just like any other night; I brought what little money I had in hopes to make more, but I lost it all very quick." The man pauses, but the magistrate remains silent. "I had been in the middle of a losing game when he came. He came and whispered in my ear, saying if I did something for him then I'd be debt-free." The man pauses again, and Li Fu nods for him to continue. "Well, I thought it would just be some boring work or hard labor, but when he showed me to the body I was surprised. Actually, I wasn't too surprised. He—"

"Get on with the story."

"Right, well, he said if I took care of the body, then he'd let me loose. I said I would if he paid me money as well, and then he just left. Said he had to get away from it." The man glances at the doorway but quickly returns his eyes to the magistrate, "I figured that the body wouldn't be going anywhere, so I used the money he gave me to take a break and buy some drinks."

Li Fu takes a second to respond, "Was there anything odd about it that you could tell me?"

"You mean, other than the dead body?" The magistrate doesn't speak. "Well, yeah. I do believe there was something odd." He pauses as he tries to remember, "That kid was hiding something. I just thought that someone didn't like how often he won, but there was something else."

"Do you know what that something else could have been?"

The man shakes his head, "The entire scene was odd. It was almost like they knew each other, except that it had been clear that he had killed that man. Even if it was defense—" Li Fu gives a look of interest as the man contemplates. "He just didn't seem to care. It was so odd. If you kill someone, even an enemy, you should feel something. Right?" Li Fu takes a much needed breath before nodding in agreement. The man looks over the magistrate in obligation, "He was your brother, Li Yong."

Li Fu replies in a sad tone, "I know." The man looks back to the floor in thought. "How about we start on that letter?" The accused nods in sorrow, before they begin to write.

* * *

\- It's a nice little relationship the eldest and youngest brother have with each other, where the eldest won't say he knows what Yong is hiding because he knows his brother isn't ready to share it.


	27. The Letter

**June 30** **th** **(Day 5, Late Afternoon)**

Yong steps out of his brother's study and sees his mother and sister in the sitting room. His mother looks up, unsure if to speak but eventually asks, "Why were you in there?"

"Oh." Yong keeps the letter behind him. "I just thought I left something in there from the other night, but I couldn't find it." He smiles as he sees his mother's suspicion, "I guess it's somewhere else."

"Why were you in there the other night?"

"Fu wanted to talk. I don't really know why, but yeah, we talked."

Li Ya looks at her son in confusion, "What did you two talk about?"

Yong shrugs, "We just talked. He wanted to know how I was."

"I see."

Yong watches as his mother turns back to his sister, "How is Li Li?"

"Li is doing fine with grace and sewing. She isn't talking nearly as often as she used to, so that's getting better." Yong watches as his mother speaks the final criticism to her, "She, however, still needs to work on her cooking, and she fails to hold things properly."

Yong watches as his sister lowers her head in shame, "Are you expecting her to do everything perfect all the time?"

His mother sits up even straighter than she had before, "Of course. We can't allow her to make any mistakes." She looks up at him, "I know you think it's harsh, but we can't take any risks."

"Yeah." Yong takes a deep breath, "I've been hearing a lot of that lately."

"Speaking of which," his mother continues as if he hadn't even spoke. "I told your brother to address your misbehavior. Has he yet?"

"What behavior?" asks Yong. "I'm not doing anything wrong."

His mother takes a deep breath, "You and I know very well what you're doing." He doesn't speak, so Li Ya continues, "You always go out to that bar, and don't try to deny it. I know you're drinking and gambling and whatever else." She shakes her head, "You're just like your father." Yong looks around in hopes that his eldest brother isn't around to hear. "Don't worry." He looks back at his mother, "Everyone in this house knows you and Li have a different father."

Yong takes a small breath of relief, "Well, actually, Shang doesn't."

"Except that he's not even here, so why do you worry so much?"

"I'm just concerned," replies Yong, "that secrets will get out. The maids do gossip."

"Don't worry about them. They're paid well and know that if secrets get out, then they will all be fired and sent elsewhere." Yong watches as his mother guides his sister with the next step of the quilting process. "Besides, that older maid, Hou Hui, should be able to keep them in line."

"Right." Yong sneaks out of the room as his mother criticizes his sister another time for imperfection. When he makes it to his room he sits down on the bed and opens the letter. The first thing he notices is that the scribbles, although messy, are still readable.

He begins as he lies on his back. _General Li Shang, I didn't want to bother you with this information, but I was told that you could help. It's my daughter, Mulan. She has just fainted, and my mother thinks it could be from a lack of eating. When I had asked my wife for the last time Mulan ate, she was sure Mulan had eaten by her command. I fear my mother is right and that Li is wrong, and if she really does have an eating problem I pray you can help. I've heard that you've been able to convince her to eat before._

Yong smiles with interest. _I know you meant to return in either a week or a month, but if you can help then we really need you here now. None of us knows when she last ate, and I'm afraid if things continue this way, she may not survive. Please, help us. She was your best soldier. I know that she could have been considered more trouble than she's worth in the eyes of the army, but if anything that she has done means anything to you, if she means anything to you, then please come and help us save her._

Yong laughs a whisper, "Wow. Ping really is a crossdresser." He continues to laugh. _Well, good luck with getting her to eat. I know how that works._

Yong stashes the letter beneath his bed, before he lies back down and remembers a conversation he had at the bar a while back. _After a few months of hanging out he finally told me that he was just a crossdresser._ Yong shakes his head, as he remembers how stupid he was, "Wait. You're really a girl?"

His friend looked around the room before whispering, "Please, be quiet, and don't change the way you act towards me. I'm only telling you this because we've been friends for a while, and well, I can tell you have a crush on me." Yong looks around the room in shock, but everyone seems oblivious and in their own world. "Don't worry. I'm not going to say anything." Yong looks back at his friend. "I just didn't want to lead you on. I mean, I'm unavailable. I'll be married in a few months."

Yong can't help but finish the rest of his beverage, so his shock can calm down. _I guess they're still the same person, but—_ "How are you pulling this off?"

"Sorry. I don't quite understand what you mean."

Yong watches as his friend takes a sip from his own drink, "How are you pulling this off? I mean, how are you so good at acting like a guy?"

"Well," his friend smiles uncomfortably. "The acting part isn't really acting. It just feels natural to behave like this. If you mean, how do I pass as a guy, then well." He takes another sip from his beverage. "Smoking can help lower your voice."

"Smoking?" asks Yong in confusion.

"Smoking," his friend confirms. "Cigars. It's some invention the outsiders make."

Yong rubs his forehead, "Wouldn't that be expensive and hard to find?"

His friend shrugs, "Kind of, but that's why I come here." He checks the room again for watchful eyes, "Besides, my family is well off enough that they won't notice if a few coins go missing."

"Okay, but I still don't understand." Yong remembers his friend's truthfulness and how he thought the entire thing must have been a lie, "You don't even look like a woman."

His friend can only smile and shrug, "If you get thin enough, then things disappear."

"Is that why you never eat?"

His friend smirks, "That's why I only eat around my family and make excuses if I can. That's another great thing about smoking. It suppresses your hunger."

Yong shakes his head, "You can't just starve yourself."

"Well, actually, I can. I have. I will." Yong lets out a frustrated breath. "What? It's not like I'm dead or going to die any time soon."

"Bai, starving to death is a thing. Why would you do it by choice?"

Yong remembers the tortured look on his friend's face, "You honestly think I'm choosing this? I don't have a choice in anything. This is my only option."

He shakes his head, "Why is pretending to be a man so important to you? How can you be willing to go to such lengths, even as far as harming and possibly killing yourself, in order to do this?"

Yong lies on his bed and stares at the ceiling, as he remembers the misunderstood tears swelling in Bai's shining grey eyes and his voice filled with desperate anger, "I'm not pretending to be a guy. I am one. It may take a lot of effort to look like one, but this is who I am and I can't just pretend to be someone else forever." The tears never fell, but Yong remembers the honesty and misses it greatly.

 _I should have done something. I could have stopped it, but I just let it happen. He was taken away, told to conform, and he never saw the light of day again._

* * *

\- So, I've been told that there's some kind of lingo that's been going around, where someone will call their significant other "Bae". Because of this, my uncle highly advised me to change this person's name... to the point really where it got stressful and annoying, but never mind that. As the tv show I had watched called "Switched at Birth" didn't have a problem with naming one of the main characters "Bay", I didn't see why I had to change mine (especially since I've been kind of going by the meanings behind the names... I don't remember them, but you could look them up.) So, basically because I took a lot of time to find the right name for this character and because the spelling is different, I decided I shouldn't have to change it just because of some terminology that probably won't even be "hip" in five years from now.


	28. The Missing Ingredient

**June 30** **th** **(Day 5, Evening)**

Mulan holds her hand to the training room doorframe. She doesn't remember much, but this is oddly familiar to her. She stares, as the empty space glows from sunbeams which stream through the windows and the wooden floor shines of three shades of brown. "What are you doing?"

Mulan turns in shock to see her mother, "I was just— What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you." She shows disapproval, "Your hair is a mess. What were you doing?" Mulan looks over her shoulder for a last glance at the sunlit room. "Don't tell me you were training."

"Ahh, I'm not sure what I was doing."

Fa Li observes the rest of her daughter, "Well, at least you're still wearing the dress." Mulan looks down in confusion, before she sees the red and white attire. "We really do need to fix your hair, though." She smiles, "No problem. We can do that in your room."

Mulan fingers through her hair to untangle it, "It's fine now."

Her mother looks at her in disbelief, "Ping, I realize this is your first day being a woman, but surely you understand that you can't just do that and say your hair is fine."

"Why not?" Ping asks, remembering all the times she's done it before.

Fa Li takes a frustrated breath, "Women just don't do that. You need to brush it, and since your hair is short we should really be putting it up to make it appear as if it's longer."

Ping awkwardly looks down at the dress, notices her lack of binding, and takes a stressed breath, "No offense, Mother, but may we continue the beauty tips tomorrow?"

"Fine, then. You can help me cook lunch."

"Lunch?" Ping looks back at the training room and sees that it has darkened.

"Yes. You need to learn how to cook eventually." Ping turns back to see her mother's weird mix of calm and seriousness. "It's not like your husband is going to cook. You have to do it for him."

"Mother." Ping is given a look. "I already know how to cook."

"I doubt that very much. I haven't even taught you yet."

Ping shakes her head and takes a deep breath, "Fine. Entertain me. Let's do this."

Fa Li proudly smiles as she leads her daughter to the kitchen, "I already cooked the meat and broth, so you don't need to worry about that." Ping follows her mother and watches as she washes the potatoes and celery. "Could you hand me the carrots?"

"Oh. Ah." Ping looks around before she sees a bundle of three carrots and hands it to her mother.

Fa Li looks down at the carrots in confusion, "Is that all?" Ping looks around the room as she remembers her binge from earlier, and she remains silent as she sees her mother's even expression. "All well. We have enough for now, and we can always go to the market later for more."

"The market?" Ping questions as she watches her mother clean the carrots.

"Yes. How do you expect your husband to buy items he doesn't know is out?" Ping doesn't respond. "We know what's needed for cooking, so we buy the ingredients needed."

"I thought the husband controlled the money."

"He does." Ping watches as her mother cuts the potatoes, "And some men do prefer to buy cooking ingredients instead of their wives, so they know where their money is going, but our family is not that case." Ping looks to the door, which leads outside, but turns her head back when her mother speaks again. "Actually, I don't usually bother to ask your father for money." She finishes the potatoes and puts them in the pot. "I actually try to sell some items I make and just use that to buy things."

Ping watches as her mother starts the celery, "Am I just supposed to stand here, or are you going to let me use the knife?"

Her mother laughs, "This isn't the army. We don't stab the food; we cut the food, and it's your first time in the kitchen so you're only watching."

Ping shakes her head, "I don't understand what I'm doing in here if I'm not allowed to help."

"We already discussed this. You need to learn how to cook, so you're watching me."

Ping looks at the semi-dirty floor and remembers her first dream, "What happened to the servants?"

Fa Li takes a loud, annoyed breath, "Most of them left after your father stabbed you. The ones who didn't quit we fired after you had been turned into a girl."

"Why?"

The mother turns around after she puts the cut vegetables into the pot, "We didn't want anyone to find out what had happened or why it happened." She ignores Ping's contemplating look, "After the stew is done we should also have bread with it."

Ping looks around the room, anxious, as she recalls the three loaves she had had earlier, "Ah-um, I haven't seen any." Her mother begins to look around. "Are you sure we have any?"

Fa Li rummages through a couple cupboards after she looks over the counters and table, "We have three loaves left. I'm sure of it."

Ping clasps her hands tightly, "Maybe rats got to them."

Fa Li glances around the kitchen, "I haven't seen any rats recently." She turns her head to her tense daughter, "Have you?"

Ping looks at the ground, "Ah, no. I haven't." Her mother looks at her with suspicion but doesn't speak, so Ping looks back up, "We can get more bread at the market."

Her mother takes a deep, stressed breath, "No. Bread is expensive. Something about how only the mill has the right tools to make flour." She turns back to the stew. "It doesn't matter. I was going to have us each only have a single slice anyway."

"Are you sure?" Ping rubs her arm in guilt.

"I'm sure. Really. We don't need it."

Ping takes a step to the side and notices her mother's sad expression, "You said before, that you make things to sell. Would you like me to help you with that?"

"Do you know how to sew?"

"Not really," Ping admits. "I only really know how to repair rips and tears."

She sees her mother's head shake in disappointment, "I'll teach you how to sew after lunch. For now, you're free to leave."

"You don't want me to watch you cook?"

Fa Li shakes her head again, "There's not a lot of cooking involved right now. All I need to do is make sure nothing compromises the meal." She pauses in thought. "I imagine you'd find it rather boring and not really learn anything from it, so you may leave."

"Alright."

Ping trudges toward the door-sheet and her mother speaks again, "I don't want you training anymore. You're a woman now and need to learn how to behave as such."

The word woman makes Ping feel sick to her stomach, and she's unable to gather information from her brain, as undistinguishable thoughts race in her mind. "Yes, Mother." She leaves the room and takes a breath to calm down, before she sees her father.

"How are you?"

Ping sees her father's even smile and calm manner, "I'm fine."

She watches as her father drinks from the water in his cup. "Your mother tells me that she caught you in the training room."

"When did she have the time to tell you that?"

Fa Zhou hides the answer in a smirk, "Come. Sit down." Ping walks over to her usual seat and sits. "I'm not going to tell you that you're a woman."

Ping laughs a thankful breath, "Thank you."

"I'll leave that to your mother." Ping shuts her eyes in disbelief and irritation. "I will tell you what will be expected of you, though."

"Oh, really." Ping tiredly places her face in her hand and rests her elbow on the table. Although her father's look shows she should stop, she doesn't. _I know what's coming._

"Your duties will obviously be different now."

Ping removes the hand from her face and lays her arm on the table, "Is this the part where you tell me I need to find a husband and bear children?"

"No. Of course, not." Ping gives a look of interest. "You already have a husband."

"What?" _Since when?_

"Li Shang." He smirks, "You two are together, have been for a long time I imagine." He takes another drink of water. "The ancestors turned you into a girl so you two could be together, and that's exactly what will happen." He sees his daughter's unsure look, "You will marry him."

Ping shakes her head and takes a breath, "Of course, Father." She stammers, "I was just wondering when it would be."

"You will be married within a month."

Ping's mouth gapes open, "Father. Don't you think that's a little soon?" She sees his questioning look. "It's just— I'm not sure I'm ready for this yet. Can't it wait?"

Fa Zhou grabs ahold of his daughter's hand, "You may not feel you're ready, but you are. You are a woman now, and women your age may have multiple children. You are ready."

Ping shakes her head, "I'll never be ready." and tears fill her eyes. "I know I should be ready, but I'm not. I just— I can't be a girl."

Fa Zhou tightens the grip on his daughter's hand, "You are a girl— a woman."

Tears stream down Ping's face, "I don't feel like I should be." She shakes her head and sniffles, "I love Shang, but I just— I don't think I can be physical with him as a girl."

Ping sees the horrified look on her father's face as he takes his hand away. She gulps, "I'm sorry. I just feel so uncomfortable with myself. I'm just— I'm not ready."

There's a loud noise, and Ping turns toward the kitchen. She isn't able to tell if something fell or if it was only a knock. "Dinner is ready."

Ping slowly walks into the kitchen and sees her mother starting to fill bowls with the stew, "I thought this was supposed to be lunch."

"It is." She hands Ping the tea kettle, "Take this to the dining room."

Ping does as she's instructed and sets the pot in front of her father. He gives her a stern look, "I'm going to make this very clear." and stands as he meets her eyes. "You are our only child, and as a woman it is your duty to marry and bear children. I don't care whether or not you're comfortable with the situation." She looks at the floor. "I'm not going to be around forever. I may look well, but if I get shot with an arrow or struck down by the gods you will not be ready." Ping looks back up in sadness and terror. "You would lose the farm, and I don't think you want to be responsible for your entire family becoming homeless."

She looks away, "No. I don't."

"Hey. Can I come in?"

Ping looks towards the kitchen in anticipation of hearing Shang's voice, but no door is opened and no more sounds are heard. She takes a deep breath, thinking it must have only been her imagination, and then she feels a hand touch her arm.

Mulan is startled awake and takes a deep breath of relief when she sees Shang instead of her father, "You scared me."

"Clearly." Shang almost smiles. "Your mother tried to tell you that dinner was ready, but I guess you were asleep."

Mulan takes another deep breath, "Yeah. I was."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

Mulan shakes her head, "Not really." and sees the bowl of meat. "What's that?"

"It's what your mother made, without the rice." He smiles, "You should have some."

Mulan almost laughs as she picks up the chopsticks, "You're persistent. Aren't you?" Shang only shrugs as Mulan uses it to grab a piece of chicken. _I don't care whether or not you're comfortable with the situation. I'm sure a lot of women feel the way you do, but right now your duties are actually the most important in our family._ Mulan shakes her head and takes a stressed breath, "I'm not sure this is a good idea." as she lays the chopsticks back in the bowl.

"Really?" She sees Shang give a look of concern, "I think it's a good idea."

"Of course, you would."

Shang watches as Mulan touches the trim of her training-robe, "I wasn't going to say anything, but you really should eat something." Shang sees her look up in confusion, "You're irritable when you're hungry, and we don't want you having any more outbursts."

Mulan opens her mouth in nonexistent laughter and looks around the room in anger, "I didn't have that outburst because I was hungry. I had it because I was stressed."

"What stress?" Mulan sees his reaction, as if the thought of her having stress wasn't even a possibility. "All you do is sleep, walk around the property, and argue with your parents."

Mulan smiles with irritation, "Well, if you don't understand what I could possibly be stressed about with everything I've told you, then there's no point in saying anything."

"Well, I know you're not talking about Ping, because you were him in the army and you still behaved this way." He sees her neutral expression. "That's why I'm saying it's because you're hungry. There's no other logical explanation."

Mulan huffs, "Right, because there's no way I could have had any other problems." She sees Shang mull it over. "You know how sensitive I was about the topics of family and such." She looks down at the bed, "I realize that it may have seemed random because I was also sensitive about everyday experiences or activities, but I really have my reasons behind these things." She sees Shang about to speak, "I will admit I have less control of my actions when I'm hungry and I may even be a little more irritable, but the outbursts only happen because I already had something to be irritated about." She pauses and looks up at Shang. "You can't blame what comes out of a person's mouth on being hungry, tired, or drunk. The thoughts were always there. They just needed to find a way to come out."

Shang takes a calming breath, as he remembers a time he got drunk in a random village during the war. _The next day Ping told me that the soldiers were concerned about the lack of confidence I had in myself, and he had asked why I thought I had dishonored my father._ Shang reminisces over the day he found out Ping was left-handed and is relieved that he was smart enough to keep the feelings he had developed hidden during his drunkenness. He looks at Mulan in regret, "I'm sorry. It's just that they made it sound like the outburst had been pointless."

Mulan almost shrugs, "I imagine they thought it was. Even when I have the opportunity and anger to voice my problems, apparently I'm still too much of a coward to actually say anything." She shakes her head as tears begin to fill her eyes. "I wish I had just said it, but no. I couldn't." She laughs, "I always do this. There must have been a thousand times where I either thought about saying it or almost did, but I always back down because I fear of how they will react." Shang wipes a tear from her cheek. She whispers, "I'm such a coward."

Shang smiles, "You're not a coward. You have a wound to prove it." Mulan laughs and grins, before he continues. "Just know that I will always be here for you and that you can tell me anything, and maybe if you tell me then you will find the courage to tell someone else."

"Like my parents?"

Shang tries to keep from laughing, "Yes. Even people as intimidating as your parents." He sees Mulan's grin turn into a frown, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She sees Shang's doubt and tries to gain some courage. "It was 'she'."

"What?"

Mulan rubs the back of her neck, "My mother kept saying 'she'." Shang quiets, but Mulan sees his interest. "It never used to bother me so much, but now whenever I hear 'she' it's like a shock that creates a hole in me and fills it with anger and despair."

Shang repositions himself, "Is it really that bad?"

He sees that Mulan is unsure of herself, "Well, it may be slightly exaggerated, but yeah. It is." She looks back down towards the sheets. "I just haven't said anything. I didn't think it would matter." She laughs, "I only asked Father if I could help him with his work, but he said it was out of the question and that if I wanted to help then I would marry and bear children."

"Is that something you don't want to do?"

Mulan shakes her head, "Not right now. It's just— I'm not ready."

Shang observes the room in thought, "Have you told him that?"

"Yeah," she laughs. "He told me that a lot of—" She hesitates, "Women must feel the way that I do, but that's just the thing." She whispers, "I feel like I shouldn't be."

There's more silence as Shang tries to come up with something to say. He looks down at the chicken, "I know you don't feel like this is a good idea, but how about we compromise." He looks up and sees he has her interest, "How about we go for a walk outside and you can eat there." He sees her give him a look. "If you want we can even take turns eating, piece by piece."

 _At least there would be exercise._ "Okay."

They stand to leave, but Mulan looks over her outfit in concern. "What is it?"

"Maybe I should change."

Shang shakes his head, "No. You look fine."

Mulan scrunches the ends of her sleeves in her hands for comfort, "I was told to wear a dress tomorrow."

Shang shrugs, "Well, that's tomorrow. There's no reason not to finish the night like this."

Mulan smiles, "I guess there isn't, is there."

"So, Ping—" He sees Mulan smile. "May I call you that?"

"It doesn't matter." _Why are you saying it doesn't matter? You know it does._

"So, Ping," He holds her hand with his unused one. "Our journey awaits." They smile as they walk into the dining room and get a couple looks. "We're going outside to eat."

"Don't stay out long."

Shang nods, "Yes, Fa Zhou."

"And keep her safe."

Shang feels Ping become tense and looks at Fa Li, "Don't worry. They'll be fine." Ping's hand relaxes and they continue to go outside.

"Did you see that?"

Fa Zhou notices the old woman's smile, "See what, Mother?"

"They were holding hands." She sees her son's thoughtful expression. "Isn't it adorable?"

"I think it's gross," comments Fa Li. "He held both her hand and the meal."

Fa Zhou takes a sip of his tea, "Li Shang comes from a good family. I'm sure he keeps his hands clean enough."

"Yes, of course, because he's the general. I'm sure his main thought is to stay clean."

Fa Zhou takes another sip of tea, "The general didn't spend his entire time in the woods, and even if he did that would only make him appreciate cleanliness more." Fa Li shakes her head but says no more, and the grandmother smiles over the whole situation.

* * *

\- I don't really know what to say. This chapter kind of had me tear up a little. I had forgotten where that "outburst" from before was leading. It's so sad, because you keep all of that stuff bottled up, and then when you finally break everyone just thinks your actions are random nonsense.


	29. Lies

\- **Trigger Warning** : reference to rape. Even though it never actually happened, I feel like I should still warn you. Also, may I just say that if you would rather say you raped someone rather than admit to your sexual orientation, then you really should rethink your life a little... Actually the same goes with conquests. If you're saying things like "Oh. Yeah. I've been with so many ladies... blah, blah, blah." then you should also rethink some things, because the kind of insecurity that leads to saying things like that, it just gives people a perception of you that may very well be disliked in the end.

* * *

 **June 30** **th** **(Day 5, Night)**

Yong walks through the servant dining room and stands in front of the first door-cloth on the right of the hallway, "Liu Xun. May I speak to you?"

The strong guard opens the cloth, "What do you want?"

Yong scans the hall and although no one is seen he still says, "Maybe the conversation would be more private in your room."

The guard grumbles, "Do you have any weapons on you?" Yong shakes his head. "Alright. Fine. Just keep your distance. Stand within five feet of me and I'll see it as a threat."

"Okay." Yong waits for the guard to head back into the room before he follows. He sees the guard stand near the bed, motioning him to move to the sidewall.

Yong moves to the wall and stands against it, "You haven't said anything, have you?"

"Don't worry. The accused is being held accountable for your crime."

Yong tries to smile, "That's not what I meant."

"I know what you meant." The guard stands stiff. "Do you think I'm stupid?" He waits for the kid to respond but nothing is said. "If your family loses the property, then I have nowhere to go."

The killer takes a step forward, but the guard growls and he backs up to the wall again. "So, you didn't say anything to anyone?"

The guard shakes his head, "Tell me. Why did you do it?"

Yong takes a few steps closer, "I told you. It was an accident."

The strong man backs away from the killer and takes the knife from his boot, "You honestly think I'm going to believe that."

"But it's true." Tears sting Yong's eyes. "We were friends."

"Right. You were friends." He shakes his head. "Friends don't kill friends."

Yong smirks, "I don't know what to tell you." He sees the guard narrow his eyes, "Look. We just did something we weren't supposed to. He didn't want any loose ends. He thought I was one."

The guard grumbles, "How do I know you weren't the one who didn't want loose ends?"

"What?" Yong shakes his head. "He was the best thing I had. Why would I kill him?"

Liu Xun huffs in disbelief and takes a step forward, the knife griped firmly in his grasp, "The accused said you were acting like you didn't care when your so-called friend died."

Yong laughs, "I was in shock. I wasn't really feeling anything. I just knew I had to take care of the mess and get out of there as soon as possible, so that's what I did." He watches as the guard takes another step closer. "We were friends. We were close." The tall man backs him to the wall and raises the knife to his throat. "What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to admit that you did it on purpose."

Yong rolls his eyes, "Okay. Yeah. Fine. I did it on purpose." He smirks as he leans closer to the guard, and he presses his throat hard against the knife as he whispers, "I may have even liked it."

The man smiles, "I knew it." before he lowers his knife and walks to the other end of the room. He sees Yong's surprised look, "What? I can't do anything to you. You're untouchable." Yong stays silent and can only grin foolishly as he touches where the knife had met his throat. "So, tell me." The guard sits down on the bed but still holds the knife, "Tell me why you killed him."

"Excuse me?" Yong asks, a little confused.

The strong man tries to smile, but it's clear he's bothered, "I just figured that we will most likely work together again. Honesty might be beneficial." He shrugs. "If it's the type of thing you'd have to kill me for knowing, then I'd rather not know, but I am interested in what you guys could have possibly done that would require getting rid of loose ends."

"Oh. Right." He takes a breath. "Eh, I don't mind, but are you sure you want to know?"

Liu Xun frowns, "So long as it doesn't get me killed."

"Eh. I don't think it will. You're a good guard, and I think your demise would be hard to explain to my brother." The man smiles and loosens his grip on the knife. "Well, if you have to know," Yong somewhat laughs. "It was a girl." He sees the man's surprised look. "Yeah. There was this young girl in the streets one evening and all alone, so we followed her and had some fun."

The guard's mouth drops open, "How young was this girl?"

Yong shrugs, "I don't know. Twelve? Fourteen? She looked old enough for marriage." The man nods in thought, and Yong pretends to sigh, "Yeah. She just had the most beautiful light-brown hair, and her skin was as soft as cotton."

Liu Xun raises his eyebrows, "You know if she was higher class, then she may not have gotten married until she became sixteen."

Yong shakes his head, "Her attire suggested otherwise."

The man nods, "Did you like it?"

He shrugs, "Yeah, of course. Who wouldn't?" The guard stays quiet. "I'd rather not go into detail, though. I'm sure you can imagine it for yourself."

"Yeah. Not that I'd want to." Liu Xun shakes his head. "It's getting late. You're free to leave." Yong smirks as he begins toward the door. "Oh. By the way," He turns back around. "I sleep with multiple weapons, so don't think about doing anything."

"I wouldn't dream of it." He sees the guard smugly smile, before he leaves the room. Yong laughs a breath and whispers, "Idiot." before going back to the family-wing.

When he makes it to the hallway he sees his brother standing in front of his room, "I've been looking for you."

Yong raises an eyebrow, "Why?"

The elder brother walks closer to him, "I need that letter back."

Yong's mouth gapes open, "Why do you think I have it?"

Li Fu takes a stressed breath, "You told me you would get your hands on it."

"Yeah. Before my friend was murdered." He sees his brother turn his head away in thought. "Do you honestly think I care about some stupid letter right now?" The brother doesn't answer. "What do you need it for anyway? You've already read it."

The elder brother looks back, "I like to keep a record."

Yong smiles, "Of course, you do." He looks down the hallway and pictures where the office is, "Where do you keep them anyway?"

The magistrate smirks, "Wouldn't you like to know."

"Hey." Yong laughs, "I'm just curious."

"Yeah. To find out what your record says."

Yong smiles, "You know, not so many magistrates keep as detailed of records as you, if they keep records at all."

His brother shrugs, "I like to know what's going on." His smile fades. "You know, there was a time when Father was careless in his work. He messed up things so often that he was almost murdered."

Yong takes a breath, "Yeah. I know the story." He smiles. "I hope nothing happens to you."

"Don't worry. Nothing will."

"We can only hope." He turns his head to his room. "I'm tired. I'm going to sleep."

"Really," Fu questions. "That's early for you."

The sixteen-year-old shrugs, "It's been a long day." and reaches for his throat.

"What happened?"

Yong grimaces, "Nothing. It was my fault." He sees his brother doesn't believe him, but he leaves to his room anyway. He takes the murder weapon out of the bag and lies in bed as he examines it. _To think, I actually have something of his._


	30. To Sew a Conversation

\- **Trigger Warning** : FTM Gender Dysphoria. This may be a short chapter, but that doesn't make it any less impactful. You may have noticed that some words have been avoided throughout this fic, but this chapter isn't as discreet. I don't know. Maybe it will be less bothersome to some than it is to others, but you continue at your own risk. Can't be any worse than anything you've heard in real life. Right?

* * *

 **June 30** **th** **(Day 5, Late Night)**

After Mulan finishes washing her nightwear she goes to her room and lays it flat to dry. Mushu asks, "So, what did you and pretty boy talk about outside?"

Mulan shakes her head as she sits on the edge of the bed, "We didn't really talk about anything."

Mushu laughs, "You honestly expect me to believe you didn't talk after that last conversation you guys had in here?"

"Yes." She sees Mushu's doubtful look. "We just talked about the scenery, and he was trying to get me to eat more than anything." Mulan shakes her head. "I'm not even sure if he believed me when I said my behavior has a reason." She takes a thoughtful breath, "Although, he still called me Ping."

"Well, that's nice of him," Mushu sarcastically comments. "Nothing like letting you be addressed the way you want, until you enter a life in which that's not possible." He shakes his head. "When you get married you're going to be addressed as a woman." Tears begin to fill his eyes. "And it breaks my heart to know that you will know what you're missing. He should have never done it."

"Mushu." Mulan shakes her head, "I've been addressed as Ping for three years. I would have known what would be missed whether he did this or not."

Mushu grabs onto her training-robe, "But that was different. That was far away in what would be seen as a lifetime away, but he did it here. Now you will know what it's like here."

Mulan takes a deep breath and remembers her dream, "I have to talk with Mama before I go back to sleep." She turns to see Mushu's confused look. "I'll be back in a while. Okay?"

She hears Mushu say, "Alright." as she exits the room, and she moves down the hallways to the sitting room. Her mother is sitting near a lantern, sewing onto a blanket which lies across her legs.

"What are you doing?"

Her mother looks up for a moment, "Well, I'm sure you know that the wife of the Sun family doesn't know how to sew, so they're paying me to make some quilts for them." Mulan doesn't speak, so her mother continues, "You would think that with at least ten children that someone there would know how to sew, but apparently not." Mulan stays silent, and her mother stops to look up at her. "What are you doing in here anyway?"

 _If I want to continue the dreams, then I need to learn how to sew._ Mulan pretends to smile, "I was just thinking that I don't know a lot about sewing myself." She pauses for a second. "If I'm going to be a good bride, isn't that something I should know a little more about?"

Fa Li grins with delight, "Yes. It is. Why don't you come and sit down so I can teach you."

Mulan walks over to a chair and sits, "What do you want me to do?"

Her mother hands her two different colored squares along with a needle and thread, "Pile one on top of the other so that only the discolored sides can be seen, and then carefully sew them together. We don't want the seam to be seen in the front." Mulan nods as she begins, and Fa Li closely watches. "Did you eat dinner?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?" Fa Li sees the continuous thread, "Don't forget to make knots. If the thread breaks we don't want the entire blanket to fall apart."

Mulan corrects her mistake and continues, "I'm sure, Mother."

Fa Li hands her daughter another square, "So. If I ask Li Shang, then he won't tell me otherwise?"

"No. He won't." Mulan looks toward the hallway, thinking that if he showed it would be perfect timing, but no one's there so she continues, "I had half of the meat. That's a lot. You should be proud."

"I'll be proud when I have grandchildren."

Mulan becomes quiet and tries not to frown. _That's not possible unless—_ She attempts to take a breath and gulps as she feels water begin to invade her eyes. "Uh, what do I do here?" She watches as her mother guides her through the next step, and she hides beneath her hair as the newly fallen tear streams down to her cheek.

* * *

"You're doing well with this."

Ping looks up at her mother in doubt, "Uh, thanks." _I guess._

"I must ask, though. Why are you suddenly helping me with this?"

Ping takes a deep breath, "I have a confession to make." Her mother looks up at her in silence. "I ate the bread. That's why you couldn't find it."

Fa Li shakes her head, "You know if you would have eaten when we told you to, then you wouldn't have done that."

"I know." Ping continues the quilt in shame. "I'm just so afraid."

Her mother laughs, "It's only food. What could you possibly be afraid of?"

Ping shakes her head, "It's not just food. It's hips, thighs. It's—" _It's things that happen to women._

"I know you're not comfortable with yourself." Ping looks over at her in sad interest. "Your father told me everything." Fa Li takes a breath. "What you must realize, though, is that all women go through what you're going through. We aren't born with hips or periods." Ping shakes at the word. "We just develop that way, and we get used to it." Fa Li turns to her daughter, "You will too."

 _No. I won't._ Ping stays quiet as she continues to help with the quilts, and it seems to last forever. Square by square, spindle by spindle, and quilt by quilt, there is no conversation, and the birds are only heard as it is brought to an end and she is free to leave.


	31. Family Reunion

**July 1** **st** **(Day 6, Late Morning)**

Fa Zhou knocks on the door to the receiving room, and a few minutes later it's opened by his neighbor. "Zhou. It's been a long time." Chong Lei pauses in awkwardness, as he sees the cane. "Ah, what are you doing here?"

Fa Zhou's voice is rough, "I'd like to speak with you and my sister."

He nods, "Of course." and gestures for him to come in. Chong Lei leads Fa Zhou through the guest-wing and kitchen, before they enter the family-wing and turn into the sitting room. Fa Zhou sees his sister look up at him, as her daughter stays quiet and continues to sew.

"Zhou. I wasn't expecting to see you."

"No. I imagine you wouldn't with my injury." He sits down and his brother-in-law does so as well. "It's been a long time. You haven't visited me in a month, so I thought I should visit you." His sister doesn't reply. "So. How are you doing? Good, I trust."

Chong Na smiles, "Of course. We've just been busy. I'm sorry."

Fa Zhou nods, "So am I." He sees their confused looks. "I heard about Wu's death. It must be hard to lose a son to war. I'm sorry for your loss."

Chong Lei takes a reminiscent breath, "Yeah. It was horrible, but he said he was ready. He was so sure of it and so confident, but I should have known better." He clasps his hands together in thought. "He may have been twenty-one, but he was in training to be a magistrate, and although he fought well he was no soldier. I shouldn't have let him go."

"It wasn't your fault." Fa Zhou firmly grasps his cane, "You know how young men are. They're curious and enjoy having an adventure, and you couldn't have known that he wasn't ready."

Chong Lei takes a solemn breath, "No, of course not. After all, your daughter went to war without any training and came home safely." He hesitates, "How is she by the way?"

Fa Zhou takes a deep breath, "She's fine." and shakes his head. "I was so surprised when she came home with nothing but a scratch, when I left war with a knee injury."

Chong Na looks at him in suspicion, "Are you sure she's okay. You seem bothered."

Fa Zhou shakes his head, "Yes. She's fine." He sees his sister's disbelieving look and takes a deep breath, "Okay. So, she's not entirely okay, but war has no part in it."

"What's going on," asks Lei.

"She's just not—" He takes a breath. "She's been having a hard time fulfilling her duties."

"How so?" Na asks.

He rests his other hand on the cane as well, "I don't really know how to explain it." He coughs. "She's just been acting more like a soldier than a bride."

Lei laughs, "What were you expecting? She's been at war for three years."

"I realize that," Fa Zhou grumbles. "I just don't know what to do with her."

"Just give her some time." Chong Lei is given a look. "You shouldn't have to worry. She's a woman. Once she readjusts to her home, she will fulfil her duties. It's only natural."

"Yeah," his wife spats. "Like how our first daughter carried out her duties." She shakes her head. "One child in three years. I honestly don't understand what's wrong with her."

"I remember," comments Lei. "When she was first married her husband complained to us about how he practically had to force her into consummating the marriage. She even tried to attack him."

"He didn't practically have to force her; he had to force her." Fa Zhou stays quiet as his sister shakes her head. "Honestly. Like I said, I don't know what's wrong with her. I had looked forward to consummating my marriage. I don't see why she didn't."

"She likes girls."

Fa Zhou turns to the doorway, where a boy leans against the frame. "Excuse me?"

The boy smiles without care, "My sister, she likes girls. That's why she wasn't interested in consummating the marriage."

Chong Na frowns, "Rong, stop spreading rumors about your sister."

He laughs, "But it's not a rumor. She told me herself, right before the day she had to leave." He sees the expression on his parents' faces. "We talked the entire night. She couldn't stop crying."

"Will you stop bringing this up? It's not true, and we have company."

Fa Zhou watches as the husband stays quiet and the son shakes his head. "You just don't want to believe it. What's so wrong with her liking girls?" Rong sees his mother flash him a look. "I'm just saying that I don't see what the problem is. If a guy asked me to do something, then I'd probably do it."

"We've discussed this," his mother interrupts. "What you like is a choice, and if a guy asks you to do anything, then you're saying no."

"See," the son responds with laughter but remains serious. "It's exactly because of that, that if something were to happen then I wouldn't tell you. You'd never know."

The father sighs and interrupts the argument, "That's enough. You've made your point. Now, go spar with your brother and leave us alone."

Rong shakes his head before he leaves, and the mother gives her husband a look, "His behavior was unacceptable. Why didn't you punish him?"

Chong Lei smiles, "There's nothing to punish. The argument was as much your fault as it was his, and honestly I don't see why it needed to happen at all."

"Nothing to punish? He thinks that being with another man is acceptable."

The husband laughs, "So, he's curious. It will pass." He sees his wife's disbelief. "Look. He's looking forward to marriage. We talk about it all the time, that is when he's not telling me about the things you refuse to listen to." Na's mouth gapes open in horror and shock. "There's nothing to worry about. Everything's fine."

"Yeah, right." She shakes her head. "What if he turns out like An?"

There's brief silence as Chong Lei looks over at his brother-in-law apologetically, realizing he was there the entire time. "I'm sorry you had to see that. Our family is a little outspoken."

Fa Zhou doesn't respond and can only sit in puzzlement, before he turns to his sister and responds with hesitation, "You said it's a choice. Do you really believe that? I mean, do you like women the same way you like men?"

His sister smiles, "Of course. Doesn't everyone?"

Lei grabs hold of his wife's hand, "We've discussed this." and their eyes meet. "Not everyone feels the way you do, but it's okay." He turns back to Fa Zhou and sees his confusion. "I just think it's because women are more sensitive than men."

"And your son?" Fa Zhou coughs. "Why do you think he's like that?"

"Nurture." Lei half-smiles, "It's hard to be a fulltime magistrate and raise a child. I'm sure even you can understand that." Fa Zhou doesn't speak and can only nod. "Then, of course, we were at war. How long was that? Five years?"

"Something like that."

"Yes, so she was their primary influence for five years. That can really affect a person." He notices Fa Zhou's deep contemplation. "What's going on?"

"Oh, nothing. I was just thinking of Mulan."

"What about Mulan?" questions his sister in suspicion.

"Like I said, it's nothing," Fa Zhou replies to buy time. "It's just that she needs to get married. We asked her to consider seeing the matchmaker again, but the reality is that she's visited her three times and after that last time there's no way she'll be given another chance."

Chong Lei laughs, "Why bother with the matchmaker at all? It may be a quick and easy route, but it's definitely not the wisest. How many women in your family have married low-class men?"

"More than what should have been," Fa Zhou admits and takes a breath. "I just don't know what to do with her. I mean, she doesn't even act the way a woman should— The way a bride should."

There's brief silence, before his brother-in-law speaks, "Well, all you really have to do is make sure she behaves during the moment the husband's father sees her. It wouldn't be too long. I'm sure she could handle that." Fa Zhou grumbles. "What? Is there another problem?"

Fa Zhou remembers Mulan's skinniness and can only think of how any suiter's father would react to her very unhealthy appearance, "I just don't really know anyone."

"Oh. Is that it? You should have told me sooner. I know many available suitors, some of which actually live out of our village. I'd be happy to help."

"No." Fa Zhou shakes his head, "You don't need to do that."

"Really, it wouldn't be problem."

"No. It's fine." He coughs. "You really don't need to. I actually know a young man." He sees their surprised looks, Lei's layered with confusion. "I only hesitate, because he knew Mulan during the war. What if I ask him to marry her and he says no, because he's known her as a man for so long? It's not like his father is around to push him into it, and who knows how reasonable his brother is."

"I see why you're worried," Lei takes a relaxing breath. "But you need to ask him. Mulan has to get married, and the longer you wait the less likely it will happen."

Fa Zhou remembers his joint-pain and takes a defeated breath, "You're right. I have to do something before it's too late."

Lei smiles, "Okay, well, I have to work on some paperwork, but I hope everything turns out okay for your family. We wish you the best of luck."

"Thank you."

After Fa Zhou speaks his brother-in-law offers a nod and leaves. His sister comments after a moment of silence, "Would you like me to walk you out?"

"Actually," he answers, "it was a long walk here, and my knee really hurts. Would you mind if I stayed a while longer to let it rest?"

His sister compassionately smiles, but her concern seeps through, "No, of course not." She takes a look at the doorway. "And I'm sure my husband wouldn't have a problem with it." Fa Zhou coughs again. "Would you like me to grab you some water?"

"That would be greatly appreciated. Thank you." He sees his sister's worried smile, before she hurries out of the room and he's left in the dimming light.

* * *

\- Honestly. I think I originally wrote this chapter, because I was getting bored. That being said, I did try to cover a couple things at the same time. The first thing is just the general idea that the only person who would think sexuality is a choice is someone who's a closeted bisexual themselves... or you know, if not then just someone who is gay but doesn't want to be, so they make it hard for other people to be gay because they're afraid if other people can be then they'd do it too... Anyway. The second thing I tried to address is how people can start to act awkward or even avoid someone who's become ill or injured, just because they wouldn't know what to say or do; however, I will be surprised if you guys realized that second thing when all of that... entertaining dialogue was happening. This family probably won't be much of a thing, but I found their insight and ways of doing things just a little refreshing... Also, since Fa Zhou has been working less someone had to have picked up that extra workload, so if they were probably going to be a thing later on then why not start on the ground work now?


	32. The Talk

**July 1** **st** **(Day 6, Early Afternoon)**

"If this is how you feel, then you need to talk to someone."

Mulan almost laughs at Shang's suggestion, "I'm talking to you."

Shang takes a calming breath, "You know what I mean." Mulan doesn't speak. "If you don't say something, then you're going to be treated the same way you always have."

"If I say anything, then they will treat me like I'm crazy or sick, or just a failure of a daughter and a dishonor to us all." She shakes her head. "They won't accept me. They can't accept me. My father even told me that my duties are the most important in our family right now." She sees his concern, "I'm their only child, Shang. What do you expect me to do?"

He holds her hands in an attempt to calm her down, "I expect you to be honest with yourself, with me, and to your family." Shang slightly shuts his eyes. "But you can't be honest with anyone if you're pretending to be someone else."

"It's not like I have much of a choice."

"You're right." He sees her give him a surprised look. "You don't have a choice, because this is who you are. You can't shield this forever, and you can't hide from everyone."

Mulan tries to smile, "I'm not hiding from you."

"Really?" Shang asks. "Because the more you pretend to be Mulan, the more I feel like Ping isn't here. It's almost like he doesn't exist anymore."

Mulan shakes her head, "Please, don't say that."

"What do you want me to say?"

Mulan tries not to cry, "Say that you accept me. Say that you love me for me. Say that you will never forget Ping, and that you won't treat me any different just for being such a coward."

Shang lets go of her hand, "I don't think you understand." He sees her worried look but feels too empty to react. "I fell for a determined soldier, only to find him hiding beneath a fragile shell of lies." Mulan tries to grab his hand in desperation, but he shakes it off and inches to the other end of the bed. "I accept Ping for who he is and I could never forget him, but if you continue to pretend to be someone else then I will have to treat you differently." He takes a deep breath and shakes his head, "And if that's the case, then I honestly don't know what I'm still doing here."

Fa Zhou opens the door-sheet and sees Mulan with fallen tears, "What's going on in here?"

"Nothing. We were just talking."

"About what?"

Shang sees Fa Zhou's suspicion and concern, "We were just discussing the choices some people around here have made." He turns back to Mulan. "I was actually just about to ask her if she feels like these people are going to continue making those choices."

Mulan tries to gulp down the new tears, "I don't think they have a choice."

Shang nods, "Well, if you think they will change their mind, then I will be willing to talk about it." He stands. "Until then," he glances toward the plate of cut carrots. "I know you think eating isn't a good idea, but I personally think you need to reevaluate what is or isn't a good idea for the long run." He sees Mulan turn her head down in thought, "Seriously. You're going to have do it eventually, and I think things will turn out better if you do it sooner rather than later." He turns to Fa Zhou and nods, before he takes a deep breath and exits the room.

Fa Zhou sits down in the chair, which is still placed near Mulan's bed. "Is there something going on that I don't know about?"

Mulan shakes her head, "Nothing worth talking about." Her father stays quiet. "Why did you come in here?"

There's a moment of quiet, as he tries to sort through everything, "I just wanted to know how you are."

"I'm fine."

There's silence as Fa Zhou thinks over the conversation he had with his sister, "If you had something to tell me you would, wouldn't you?"

Mulan shakes her head, "Why wouldn't I?" Her father doesn't respond. "Do you believe I'm not telling you something?"

He remembers Mulan's insistence on how she wasn't ready to marry, "I want to know why you feel like you're not ready for marriage."

"It doesn't matter, does it?" She looks up. "It's going to have to happen anyway, so let's just make it happen." She sees his surprise, "I don't really care anymore."

"So, you want to be married now?"

Mulan shrugs, "Like I said before, it's going to happen. There's no need to avoid it."

"And we aren't going to avoid it. We can't." He sees Mulan look down and away. "But I would like to discuss why you didn't want to marry in the first place."

Mulan shakes her head again, "It doesn't matter."

"Yes. It does." She offers another expressionless look, which contains dull eyes and a constant frown. "It's important. If something's going on, then you need to tell me what it is."

She sadly laughs, "And what do you think that is?"

Her father turns his head down for a moment, "Are you afraid to consummate your marriage?"

"Of course." She sees her father's desperate look, "But like you said, there must be a lot of women out there who feel the way I do." Mulan almost laughs. "Because I'm just like every other girl out there, a bride waiting for marriage. I'm no different, because that would be impossible. Right?"

Fa Zhou doesn't respond to his daughter's sarcasm, as her voice had been very serious. He can only hold onto his cane for support as he admits, "I was wrong. It's not always normal for a woman to feel the way you do." He sees Mulan's expression change to thoughtfulness, but it's laced with irritation. "If there's a specific reason why you didn't want to marry, then I'd like to know."

Mulan takes an unsteady breath and tries to smile, "There isn't, so just go arrange a marriage for me already. Let's just get this over with."

Fa Zhou nods but isn't able to speak, so he stands to leave the room. He opens the door-sheet slowly, as he looks back and sees his daughter is clearly trying to hold back tears. He turns his head down and takes a sad breath, before he leaves to the dining room.

When he sits down at the table Shang is already there, but the silence is tense as one expects the other to speak first. Fa Zhou clears his throat after he drinks from a cup of water, "So. What were the two of you talking about before I interrupted?"

Shang shakes his head, "We weren't talking about anything, or at least nothing they see as important." He shakes his head. "Of course, if that's not important, I don't see what possibly could be."

Fa Zhou stares at the general in confusion, "Excuse me, but what are you speaking of?"

Shang laughs from stress, "It's nothing. Your child just doesn't realize how important their problems actually are." He sees Fa Zhou's concern and takes a calming breath. "How are you?"

"I thought I was fine." He looks down at the cup of water. "I need to get Mulan married."

The general gives him a questioning look, "No offense sir, but shouldn't you be more worried about your child's health right now?" Fa Zhou's expression doesn't change. "It's just that they're not ready for marriage." Shang shakes his head in confusion, "I guess I'm just having a hard time understanding who you plan to marry them to. I mean, no stranger is going to want your child while they remain in such an unhealthy state."

Fa Zhou smiles, "I actually wasn't thinking of a stranger." He waits to see Shang's interest. "I was thinking of you."

"What?" Shang takes an anxious breath, "Me? Why me?"

Fa Zhou lifts an eyebrow, "You two seem to get along. You seem to care about her wellbeing, and she's responded to your command to eat."

Shang interrupts, "Yeah, right. That's why there's still a plate of carrots sitting in their room." He shakes his head. "No offense sir, but are you sure I'm the right choice?"

"Are you not interested?"

Shang frowns as he remembers the time the soldiers sat near a fire, and he had offered Ping some meat. He had only been answered with a shake of the head and an unforgettable smile, but after prodding on Ping had taken the meat and eaten it. _That smile._ "It's not that I'm not interested. I just don't believe they're ready for marriage." He sees Fa Zhou's concerned look. "Should our primary concern not be their health?"

"Yes. Her health is important, but marriage is as well. I won't be around forever."

"I realize that." Shang notices the man struggle to pour another cup of water. "I wasn't going to bring this up, but I don't understand how you expect us to consummate the marriage when they're too weak to even walk around."

Fa Zhou shakes his head, "There will be a lot of problems with this marriage, I suspect, and if it bothers you then you don't need to consummate it right away. You just need to say you did." He sees Shang's hesitation. "Unless there's another problem of which I should know about."

Shang sits in thought, "It's nothing. Really." He sees Fa Zhou's interest and doubt. "It's just that I knew them for three years."

"So, that's the problem." Fa Zhou places a hand to his head. "You don't want to marry her, because you've known her as a man. I was worried this would happen."

"No, no. That's not the problem." Shang sees his speculation and laughs awkwardly, "Not that that shouldn't be a problem, but that's not what I'm thinking about."

"What's the problem, then?"

Shang can tell that Fa Zhou is tired. _He might just be tired of me._ "It's just that I've known them for three years, and they seem to act completely different here. If I'm going to marry someone, then I'd like to know what I'm getting into first."

"You know, marriages are typically arranged so that doesn't happen." Shang can only nod. "So, are you saying that my daughter's behavior concerns you?"

Shang shakes his head, but then realizes the behavior is concerning, "They just acted different in the army, and not that they talked more but I feel like they were more honest there."

"I highly doubt that." The general watches as Ping's father takes a sip of water. "She was in a disguise and even had to lie about her name. I would ask you to look up the word honesty again, dear general, because my daughter deceived you for three years and there's no integrity in that."

Shang almost laughs, "It's impossible to put on an act for three years." He sees Fa Zhou's stubbornness. "If your child deceived me, it was only because they were being honest to themselves."

Fa Zhou smiles, "Of course she was honest with herself. It's not possible to lie to yourself." He sees Shang is strong in his opinion and tries to alleviate the tension. "Look. If this were even just one century ago, then I may have agreed with you, but things are different now and for the better." He sees Shang's doubt, "Back when women were able to be in the army things were chaos; there were higher death rates and lower birth rates, but now things are structured and balanced. It needs to stay that way."

 _No wonder they were afraid to tell him._ "At what price?"

"Excuse me?"

The general takes a deep breath, "If your child came to you and told you that they would prefer to enact the duties of a son, would you let him?"

Fa Zhou sits in confusion for a moment, "That's impossible. Women are women. They can't be sons, and they certainly can't make another woman bear a son, so no. In that sense it would be impossible for a woman to enact the duties of a son." Shang is baffled and angry with the dumbfounded look on the magistrate's face. "What does this have to do with Mulan?"

"This has nothing to do with her." _It has to do with Ping._

"Oh, good. I was worried for a second."

Shang stands as Fa Zhou finishes his tea, "This was just completely hypothetical."

He nods, "I know."

Shang shakes his head, "I will ask, though, what about things besides marriage and children?"

"That would be out of the question." He sees Shang's expression. "Women need to do their duties. Anything, including pretending to be a man, is only a distraction."

"But you're letting Mulan be rewarded as Ping. You're letting them attend the festival."

"A festival the emperor has ordered, but nothing has changed." He sees the general's contemplation, "Believe me. I'm happy to be alive, but Mulan made a mistake when she distracted herself and neglected to fulfil her duties on time."

"Right." Shang takes a sad breath before moving closer to the table to finish his water, and then he exits the room to go down the hall. He opens the door-sheet to Mulan's room and is surprised to see her there, "Ping?" Shang looks back into the dining room to make sure what he said wasn't heard, before turns back and sees him crying. "You heard everything. Didn't you?" Ping can only nod, and Shang motions for them to enter the room to sit back on the bed. "I'm sorry. I thought your father would have been more understanding than this."

"Yeah." Ping squeaks out a sob, "I thought so too."

Shang holds Ping in his arms as the crying continues, and whenever footsteps come close he muffles the cries with his shoulder so they won't be heard. "It's okay. Everything is going to be okay."

* * *

\- Don't worry. You didn't miss anything. I just figured we've had that conversation enough where we could skip to the second half of it. I must say, ignorance doesn't suit Fa Zhou well. Oh, ah. In case you couldn't interpret it, visiting his sister gave him the idea that maybe Mulan also likes girls and that's why she didn't want to marry. Sadly, he would be wrong... well, at the very least that's not why they keep putting marriage off. I'm just waiting for him to outright ask it, but I don't remember if or when he does.


	33. Comfort

\- Be careful when you read this chapter. I introduced a character named "Yang", so make sure you know who's speaking. Can't say sorry enough, but so long as you keep an eye out for o's and a's it shouldn't be an issue.

* * *

 **July 1** **st** **(Day 6, Evening)**

Yong sits on a crooked stool and stays silent as the bartender hesitates to pour him another drink, "You've had a lot. Maybe you should stop."

"I'll stop when I'm done." The bartender doesn't move. "Come on, I'm your most frequent customer. Be respectful and pour me another." The man shakes his head, and Yong slams the glass on the wooden counter. "Pour me another or I'll take my money elsewhere."

The bartender takes a deep breath, wondering how you can be scared and bored at the same time, as he pours him another drink. "You're not my most frequent customer. Your father is."

Yong takes a drink before scanning the room, and he's annoyed to see the lowlife sitting at a table filled with empty cups. "Okay, then I'm your highest paying customer. I know that, because I know that he doesn't pay you." He shakes his head and laughs, "Oh, and he's not my father."

"Really?" asks the bartender. "Because you both have blue eyes."

"He's not my father," Yong shouts, and multiple people stare at him. "You shouldn't make assumptions. It will make my family look bad."

When the few people who decided to pay attention stop staring the bartender speaks again, "I'm sorry if I offended you. It's just that blue eyes aren't exactly common in these parts."

Yong takes another sip of his drink, before he lifts the glass up and admires it, "My mother has blue eyes. You shouldn't make assumptions." The bartender stays silent, as a guy with dark-brown hair and brown-hazel eyes walks up to them, "What are you doing?"

Yong continues to stare at the cracked glass, "I'm observing."

"Observing what?"

"The color. The pattern." He smiles, "The light."

Yang looks around the very dimly lit room and shakes his head before turning back to the rich guy, "What color? Baijiu is clear."

Yong observes how the light moves through the discolored glass and stripes patterns through the substance, "Oh, but there is so much more. There is always more." He shakes his head, as he remembers the excuse he gave Liu Xun. "There is always more. Nothing's what— It's not the way it seems."

"Okay, well." He laughs, "Are you going to try to take our money tonight or not?"

Yong shakes his head repeatedly, "No. I'm too sad." He sets the drink down, before he remembers how he had killed his friend, and then he gulps down a good portion of the substance. "Sad and sad, and I'm— not tonight."

Yang gives a questioning look, "You don't look sad."

He lifts up his drink and it nearly falls as he points his arm out to the gambler, "Appearances can be deceiving." and he stares down the bartender. "You should remember that."

The man steps back and can only nod as Yang comments, "The guys thought it would be great if you could play a game with us. You know, so we can take your money for once."

Yong scrunches up his eyebrows, "No." The man takes a deep breath in disappointment before leaving, and Yong finishes up his last glass of baijiu before he stands and stumbles outside to use the trench at the end of the alley.

After he's finished he turns around and notices a girl in the shadows. He walks up to her and notices a small bag meant for coins, "Is your husband inside or are you just here for business?"

"Business." She sees him nod. "May I help you with anything?"

"Oh, ah— No." He shakes his head. "I don't even know why I came over here."

She smiles, "Maybe you're lonely."

Yong huffs, "Yeah. That would make sense." The woman puts her arms out and touches his chest, but Yong immediately takes them off of him and harshly pushes them back to her sides. "No. Don't do that. I— I don't want to be touched."

The woman looks at him in confusion, "But you're lonely." Yong takes a deep breath and turns his head to the side. "There must be something I can do."

Yong stays silent for a moment before deciding to see how much money he has, and after a second of thought he looks back to her and hands over some coins. "Here."

The woman seems perplexed, "This isn't enough."

"I don't want the full package."

The woman nods in thought, "Okay." before she gets down on her knees and begins to perform. Yong can tell that she's trying to look seductive but it doesn't work well, so he shuts his eyes and recalls the times he had spent with his friend. The memories repeat as Yong remembers being kissed, held, and felt, but the thoughts disappear when the woman speaks, "How am I doing?"

Yong almost screams. _Wow. Thanks for killing the mood._ He shakes his head, "You're fine." He walks a few feet away as he readjusts his clothing.

The woman takes a few steps, "No. I did something wrong. I must have."

Yong takes a deep breath as he turns around, "It wasn't your fault. It was mine." He sees that she doesn't believe him. "I lost someone recently. That's all this was."

"Oh."

Yong begins to tread back to the door, but his hands tighten and he has to turn around, "Next time, just don't talk."

The woman gives him a sad, confused look, "I thought you said it wasn't my fault. You said I was fine."

"It wasn't and you were, but it's just—" He breathes stressfully, "It just would have lasted longer if you didn't talk."

"Oh. Sorry." Yong sees that she's either embarrassed or flustered. "I haven't had any customers complain about that yet."

Yong shakes his head and doesn't speak. All he can do is observe the alley. _What are the odds that our first and last time would have been here?_ He looks up to the window of the room in which they had spent the rest of their time.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." Yong takes a deep breath, before he strides back into the building and stumbles to the bar again, "Give me my room."

The bartender sees the coins, "Okay." but looks at Yong in confusion as he collects it. "Wait. Where's that friend of yours?"

"Dead."

"Oh."

"Yeah." He smiles with clenched teeth, "So, my room?"

The bartender gives a solemn look, "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Is our—" Yong gulps and takes a shaky breath, "Is my room available?"

"You are my highest paying customer. I try to keep it open for you."

Yong nods and falls onto the stool, "I need a few more drinks."

The bartender offers a look of concern but fills his glass anyway, "I really am sorry to hear—"

"Forget about it."

The man shakes his head as he fills the glass up again, "It's just— I know you were close."

"Of course. You work here. How could you not know?" Yong shakes his head, "It's just— I thought I meant more. You know?" The bartender nods. "It's like, we were— We were and he just tried to stab me in the back. What kind of friend does that?"

The bartender makes sure no one's bothering to listen in on their conversation, "Your friend, is he the man that was found out back?"

Yong laughs, "And then his mother said that he cared about me." He finishes the rest of the drink. "He only came to say goodbye." He looks up at the concerned man, "You believe that?"

"That's an interesting story."

"And it's all true. I'm not lying this time." Yong looks into the empty glass, "Pour another."

The bartender shakes his head and takes the glass away, "I think you've had enough. You should go to your room and rest for the night."

"Right. The execution's tomorrow." He stands, but his legs remain unsteady. "My brother— I will be expected there." The bartender doesn't speak, and although no one had really paid much attention earlier, now everyone can only whisper about how much he had clearly drunk as he steps up the stairs.

When Yong makes it to his room he shuts the door but forgets about the wooden board, and it just lies in front of the entrance as he lies down in bed. Yong's eyes shut and he remembers a time he and his friend had lain there together.

He was on his side and his friend's arms were wrapped around him, and even though the night had grown late it was still warm. The moon was full and light flooded the room, but it was so dim that they could only truly see each other. He could feel Chang's strength dominate his own as he was held, but it was filled with comfort and Yong wouldn't have had it any other way as he whispers, "I love you."

"I know."

Yong could hear the smile in his friend's words, but then he remembers the agreement of risk and how this was only temporary. The silence fills the room as an emptiness fills him, but it occurs to Yong that if they keep a place for each other, then it's like their love will always exist. He reluctantly turns to look into his lover's light-grey eyes, "I know this can't last forever, but you won't forget about me, will you?"

Chang laughs a smile, "I could never forget about you." and gives him a soft, savoring kiss.

Yong smiles as well, as the emptiness is replaced with hope and calm happiness, "Yeah." He turns back around and holds the hand of the arm which holds him. "I could never forget you either." They grow quiet as the night progresses, and Yong listens to the wind as he falls asleep.

* * *

Li Fu walks through the nearly empty room, before he reaches the bar. "Where's my brother?"

The bartender looks at the magistrate in confusion, "Yong? Yong's your brother?"

"Yes. Who were you expecting?"

"I'm not sure." He shakes his head. "He didn't like giving out his name, plus he has a habit of telling stories. Even if he is my highest paying customer, I wasn't expecting you as his brother."

Li Fu isn't surprised, "Well, I am. So, where is he?"

The bartender gestures upstairs, "His room is the second on the left."

Li Fu goes up to the room and opens it, before he steps over the board and realizes his brother is sleep talking. _First Shang and now him. It must be Mother's fault._ He takes a step closer, "Wake up."

Yong turns in the bed and whispers, "Chang." before he reaches an arm to the other side of the bed, and he keeps reaching for the nonexistent person until he wakes up. "Oh. That's right. He's dead."

The elder brother pretends to cough, and Yong turns in shock. "The execution is taking place at noon. You have a few minutes to get ready."

"Right." He shakes his head and nervously laughs, "How long were you there for?"

The elder brother shrugs, "I just saw you reach for the other side of the bed." He smiles. "Would you like to tell me why you were doing that?"

Yong stands to put on the rest of his clothes, "I was just testing the comfort level."

"After you slept in it?" Yong doesn't respond. "What did you think of it?"

"Cold." Yong shakes his head and smiles as he turns around, "Have you seen this place? It's not exactly what we have at home."

"If that's the case, then why do you stay here a lot of nights?"

Yong shakes his head again and puts a hand to his mouth for a moment to keep his breathing steady, "Would you rather have me ride my horse home after drinking?"

His brother hesitates, "A lot of people prefer to drink in moderation."

"Yeah. Right. Tell that to my father." Yong sees his brother's worried look. "Sorry. So, what's going on with the execution?"

His brother hesitates, "Well, he's outside gagged and drunk and guarded." Yong nods but doesn't speak. "I was wondering if you'd like to carry out the execution." He sees his brother's deep thought and mild shock. "I just thought you'd want to, since he killed your friend."

Yong smirks as he recalls what a poor job the guy did with getting rid of the body, "Yeah. Sure. I would be honored to execute that idiot."

The elder brother takes a shaky breath, "You know, I wasn't actually serious. I only asked you to see if you were willing to do something like that." He sees his brother's disappointment. "I was just going to have Liu Xun do the execution."

"But he always gets to do the execution. That's not fair." Yong sees his brother's fear and tries to calm down, "Like you said, it was my friend who was murdered. Why can't I do it?"

"You know why."

"What reason would that be?"

Li Fu momentarily stays silent in irritation, "Fine. Do you really want to do this?"

"Of course." _Maybe it will let me forget about what happened with Chang and just kind of replace the memory._ "A little revenge never hurts."

"You're about to kill a man." The elder brother shakes his head. _That's a stupid thing to say to someone who's already murdered another person._ "Is that really what you need right now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your friend just died. Do you really want another death on your conscience?"

Yong laughs, "None of this is my fault, so stop acting like it is."

Li Fu takes a calming breath, "You're right. It's his fault." He sees his brother's silence as he walks to the window. "No family, no friends, and clearly unhealthy. You're lucky."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." His brother turns around. "I'm just making this easier on you."

"You don't have too." _It would probably be more effective if you hadn't just said that._

The brother doesn't respond, and it's only as more people gather outside that he speaks, "You should finish getting ready."

Yong looks over his somewhat clean attire, "But I am ready."

"No." His brother jesters to his semi-long hair, "You need to put it up."

"Ah." Yong laughs, "I don't have any of those hair things. I only wear it up when I train."

The elder brother gives a curious yet judgmental look, "So, you've just been wearing your hair down this entire time, even when going out?"

"Well, yeah."

Li Fu shakes his head, "You come from a good family. You should dress the part."

"Or I could just dress the way I want to."

Li Fu laughs, "But your hair is ridiculous." He sees his brother's bored expression. "With those long bangs and just the length in general, if you're not going to wear it up you should at least get it cut."

"Why? Some guys have long hair."

"Yeah, maybe barbarians." His brother glares at him. "Look. I'm just telling you what mother has said. She's worried for you."

"Yeah. Sure." Yong takes an irritated breath, "She has a lousy way of showing it." Li Fu stays quiet. "I'm not cutting my hair. That's final."

Li Fu looks at him in absurdity, "It's just hair. Why does it matter?"

"It's comfort," Yong interrupts. "I like having something around me." He shakes his head, "Of course, I don't expect you to understand. Let's just get on to the execution already."

The magistrate hears a large number of voices coming from outside, "Fine. Just brush your hair and then we can leave."

When they make it downstairs they enter the center of the street, and the crowd goes into silence at the sight of the magistrate standing next to the barbarian. Yong looks around and notices the second class family, which his friend was supposed to be married off to, before his brother speaks, "I wouldn't be here, except that I felt we had to be." They see the crowd's confusion. "This man murdered someone who had only just consummated his marriage, leaving the wife wed and widowed within the span of a few days."

The crowd whispers their concerns as a few turn to the wife's family, but Yong knows the marriage was never consummated. _This is just for show._

"It also so happens to be that the man was no ordinary man; he was also my brother's friend, which is why I'm letting him carry out the justice for us today."

Yong walks up to Liu Xun and the gagged man, who is clearly trying to speak to no avail. The guard keeps a firm hold of the ax and whispers, "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm getting my revenge."

Liu Xun shakes his head, "But he didn't do anything to you."

Yong slightly smiles, "That's not what the crowd believes." He sees the guard is hesitant. "Hand me the ax before I decide you're more trouble than you're worth."

The strong man hands over the ax and walks over to his superior, "This was a bad idea."

"What would you have advised me to do?" Liu Xun gives him a look. "I was just testing him. When I asked if he was interested in executing him, I didn't think he'd actually say yes."

"Then you obviously don't know him that well."

The magistrate stays silent as he watches his little brother smirk, before Yong swings the ax to the neck of the accused. The innocent man screams in pain, as once was not enough, and he tips over onto the ground. Yong steps on the man's back, hoping for an easier swing, and he continues to wield the ax until the innocent man is completely decapitated. Li Fu cringes at the sight, before he frowns and walks in front of his careless brother, "This is a hard time for everyone." He sees a few guys in the back whisper with nearly hidden smiles. "All we can do is turn this into a lesson."

Yong stops his half-smirk when he sees his friend's mother look at him in horror. He bends his head down to avoid the sight of her, and it's then he sees the blood splatters on his clothes. He also feels something wet across his face, so he reaches to clean the droplets off, only to find his hand stained red with blood. _How long was that there?_

"And the lesson today is that no matter how wrong someone has done you." He turns around to the other side of the crowd, but Yong knows the message is for him. "Murder is never the answer. These people are human. They're just like you." The magistrate turns as he speaks to the entire crowd, "They have brothers and sisters, parents and friends. They have duties and lives." He completes the circle and finishes the speech as he looks at his brother, or what the people assume to be the crowd behind his brother. "If you take the life of another, then you might as well be taking your own."

Yong quickly looks toward his friend's mother again, before he shakes his head at the ground. He looks back up to see his brother still staring at him. Yong looks over himself again and realizes he's still holding the ax, so he drops it and moves forward, past his brother and through the silent crowd.

* * *

\- This is one of my favorite chapters. I can't believe I hadn't given it to you until just now. That being said, there is something I feel the need to address. You see, someone I know read this chapter a while ago, and they assumed that because Yong was gay and he just so happened to have longer hair that that must mean he likes it being tugged at in some submission fashion; however, he was wrong. The chapter isn't called "Comfort" just because of the drinking, the scene with the prostitute, and the following flashback. No. Yong explicitly says in here that having longer hair is a comfort to him. This sense of comfort is because for some people long hair can act as an extra piece of clothing: it's the coat you wear to stay warm in winter, it's the blanket you snuggle up with when you're lonely. Really. It's a ridiculous assumption to think that just because a guy has long hair and just so happens to be gay that they would want to do that. It would be like assuming every girl with short hair is a lesbian and therefore will know how to fix a truck. It's complete nonsense. Yong's hair has nothing to do with his sexuality... well, kind of not. When I was creating character profiles for this fic I wanted to be as diverse as possible, especially in terms of gender and sexual orientation. In his character profile I have his gender listed as mascandrogyne, meaning an androgyne who feels more masculine than feminine (androgyne meaning a gender which is simultaneously masculine and feminine). As he's already male this won't have a huge impact on his life, but he may still get criticized for his more feminine attributes (like wanting longer hair or taking up a traditionally female skill). If you don't believe in non-binary genders, then you could just sum this up to personality or whatever. Me, myself, I'm sticking to what my character profiles say... and I am one of those "crazy" people who believe in non-binary genders, so I really do enjoy writing this character.

\- If anyone cares, for that flashback scene I was listening to "Wildest Dreams" by Taylor Swift. Just because the song says that "nothing lasts forever" and then it continues on to her wanting him back, even if it is only pretend or just a dream. I thought it was a really good fit for the scene. Also, it was passionate, so there's that. Anyway. That's it for tonight. Let me know what you thought. See you tomorrow.


	34. Things Won't Stay the Same

\- Okay, so I'm like super irritated that the entire chapter name wouldn't fit when I tried to post this. So, I have to put it below instead.

* * *

 **Things Won't Stay the Same, but Things Will Never Change**

 **July 2** **nd** **(Day 7, Early Afternoon)**

"I accept you for who you were and I could never forget him, but if you continue to pretend to be someone else then I will have to treat you differently." Fear takes hold of Ping as she knows what will be said next. "And if that's the case, then I honestly don't know what I'm still doing here."

She takes a quick breath, "Please, don't be like this. Don't say these things."

"What do you want me to say?"

Ping sees Shang's frustration, "I want you to say you'll be here for me." Shang turns his head away. "I know I'm a coward, but that's why I need someone to be here for me."

Shang shakes his head, "And who would that be?"

"What?" Ping shuts her eyes for a moment.

"Would I be here for who you are or for who you pretend to be?" Her eyes open, and Shang continues. "I don't understand why you won't just be honest with everyone. If your problems are shown, then at least they're out there." Ping looks away, as she remembers her father saying that her comfort doesn't matter. "If you're honest, then eventually it will have to be spoken about."

"It won't be spoken about. It will be ignored."

"What makes you think that?" Ping shakes her head in silence. "I realize this is hard for you, but you can't pretend to be someone else forever."

"I don't have a choice." She takes a stressed breath, "They're acting like who I was never happened. They're acting like I was always their daughter and that it will stay that way." She sees Shang's look. "What am I supposed to say? Sorry, but the daughter you've had to deal with doesn't exist? They're not going to believe that when I'm physically a girl." She pauses to take a sad breath, "They're not going to believe that when I still want to be with you."

Shang looks away for a moment, "I don't care if they don't accept you. That shouldn't matter." She sees the anger in his dark-brown eyes. "I don't care how feminine you were pretending to be before. You've changed; you've started to be more honest with yourself and with me, and I don't want you to start lying just because you feel the need to conform to their expectations."

Ping looks down at the green dress she had worn that day, "They're my parents. I can't just disregard them. I have to do as they say."

"If you do as they say, then you're disregarding yourself." Ping stays quiet. "I know you think you're honoring your family by pretending to be their daughter, but in the end you have to be true to yourself. If you keep pretending to be her, then it won't end well. You know it won't."

Ping puts a hand to her head, "I don't know what to tell you, but I just can't." She looks up and sees Shang's disappointment. "So long as I'm a girl, I have to pretend to be one. I'm sorry."

Shang huffs, "Yeah. I'm sorry too." He stands and takes a few steps away. "It's sad to think that the one I love is going to be locked up, while you make everyone believe that he never existed in the first place." He bears his teeth, "I guess I'll have no choice but to do the same."

Ping watches as he leaves and thinks of saying something, but she doesn't know what else she could have done. _It's not like I want this. I have no choice._ Her thoughts roam as she lies down and stares at the ceiling, before the room darkens and she listens to the high pitched silence.

After a while the silence is broken by footsteps and a creak from the floor, and Mulan wakes up to see Shang enter her room. "Are you really still asleep?"

Mulan takes a deep breath and yawns, as she notices the sun is high above the horizon, "Yeah. Sorry. It's just—" She shakes her head. "I guess I just didn't want to wake up."

Shang looks over at the empty plate, "Well, it's afternoon, so I was thinking about asking you if you wanted lunch, but it looks like you've actually eaten already."

Mulan looks at him in confusion, before she sees the plate which had been filled with cut carrots only the night before. She sees the blue cricket all puffed up and sleeping behind it, before she hurries to respond, "Oh. Yeah. That's right. I— I ate the carrots."

Shang gives her a weird look, "Of course, you ate them. Who else could have?" He sees her contemplative look and takes a breath. "Your mother needs us to harvest some tea leaves."

"Oh, right." Mulan sits up in her blue attire. "Father needs five cups every morning and afternoon now. We should hurry to make sure we have enough in supply for him."

Shang sees Mulan stand and hurry to the wardrobe, but he sees her frustration as she pauses and places a hand to her forehead. "Can we talk for a moment?" Mulan doesn't respond, so he walks closer to her, "About last night, I just wanted to say I'm sorry." He sees her about to grab a fabric before her arm falls back to its side. "I shouldn't have tried to force you to tell them. Clearly, you were right. They wouldn't have understood, and even your father wouldn't have accepted it."

"There's no way you could have known."

"Maybe, or maybe I could have just believed you." There's silence for a moment as he walks closer, "Ping. You were right. I should have just listened to you."

Ping takes a sad breath and doesn't turn around, "There's no reason why you should have. I'm a coward. I could have just been lying out of fear."

Shang sees him take the dress pieces out of the wardrobe, before he shuts the doors, "But there still would have been a reason for that fear." Ping turns around. "You could have been afraid of their response. You could have been afraid of being rejected."

"That's the thing. I am afraid of being rejected." Ping sees Shang's concern. "That's why I don't tell anyone anything. That's why I pretend none of this matters. I'm afraid of telling people the truth." He takes an unsteady breath and tries not to cry, "I'm afraid that when I finally tell the truth that they will think it's just something new, something that hasn't been happening for years, and just reject me."

"I won't reject you."

Ping tries to take a calming breath, "I know you won't, but they will."

Shang looks down at the silk fabrics which Ping holds, "Do you think you will ever tell them?"

Ping tries to smile but a tear falls to his cheek, "I've already tried. I've given hints. I've tried to explain my feelings before, but they don't understand." He laughs, "I've even tried wearing what I'd like to wear, but they don't see what's going on. They just reject everything. They reject me."

There's a moment of silence, before Shang tries to reassure, "It won't stay this way forever."

Ping huffs, "I know you think that, and I know that's true, but even if things don't stay the same that doesn't mean things will ever change." Ping shakes his head and brings a hand to it, as he sees the green dress in his other hand. "I have to get dressed, so we can harvest the tea." He takes a stressed breath. "I'll meet you out there. For now, just leave me be."

After Shang leaves and Ping puts on what his mother would call proper attire, he walks over to the mirror and is shocked by the reflection. A few tears stream down his face as Mushu comments, "I don't understand why you cause yourself so much pain. If your appearance bothers you so much, then why do even look at yourself. You should really be avoiding mirrors entirely."

"Yeah. Like that's possible."

"It is possible." Mushu stands tall on the bed, "If your reflection makes you cry, then I don't want you to use the mirror as often as you do."

Ping wipes the tears from his face and crouches down to sit on the floor, "It's just— I never expect it to be so bad. I know I won't recognize myself, but when I realize it's me—" He huffs. "I feel like I don't even exist. She stole everything from me: my body, my family, and my friends." He looks over the bright dress he wears, "She stole my life. I just— I want it back."

"Who are you talking to?"

Ping looks up and sees his mother open the sheet to his room, before he looks over at the bed and notices Mushu has disappeared, "No one. I was just thinking out loud." It's quiet as he observes his mother's concern. "Why? What did you hear?"

"Nothing." Fa Li's eyes look around the room as the few sentences she did hear replay in her mind. "I just thought you should help to harvest the tea leaves. It's not exactly a one person job, and I have my own work to do around the house."

"Right." Ping stands up and grabs the brush.

Fa Li notices her daughter's excessive loss of hair, "Have you eaten recently?"

Ping lets out a deep breath, "Yes. Of course. If you don't believe me, then ask Shang."

His mother responds with concern, "You are aware, we only want what's best for you."

Ping silently laughs, "You want what you think is best for me." He turns around after throwing the third ball of hair into the fire. "But do you ever consider how I feel." He shakes his head, "No. Sorry. I forgot that feelings and comfort don't matter." Ping sees his mother's concern turn into irritation. "They're only subjective to our duties in the long run."

His mother shouts, "You're only a child. We're your parents. We know what's best, and until you're married you will do as we say."

Ping frowns, "Did you not just hear what I said? I said sorry." He gestures to his dress as he walks closer, "Do you not see what I'm wearing? I am doing as you say." Ping stands in front of his speechless mother. "I know you both wouldn't have it any other way."

After a moment of useless silence Ping asks, "Are you going to let me help Shang harvest the tea, or do you believe Father has enough stored?" Fa Li takes a defeated breath and lets her daughter pass her by.

* * *

\- I know her mother is only trying to "help", but I still hate her. Hopefully overhearing those few sentences will coerce her thoughts some, but I doubt it. We'll just have to see.


	35. Everything Has Changed

**Everything Has Changed, and That Will Not Change**

 **July 2** **nd** **(Day 7, Midafternoon)**

"Did it make you feel any better?"

Yong shrugs, "Maybe for a minute." as he sits in a chair of his brother's study. "It doesn't bring him back, though."

It's quiet as Li Fu tries to see past his brother's indifference, "It's hard to lose a friend."

"Yeah." Yong takes a long breath, "It's not like I had many to start with."

The elder brother's hands are clasped on the desk, "But he wasn't your only friend."

Yong cracks a smile and almost laughs, "No. Of course, not. The other friend I had already died a little over a year ago." He sees his brother's shock. "And then, of course, I was friends with a couple of girls when I was younger."

"May I assume that those girls are also dead?" Yong's eyebrows furrow as his mouth gapes. "Come on. It's a reasonable question. Your other two friends are dead. Why wouldn't they be?"

"Wow. Thanks." Yong shakes his head, "Are you also assuming that I'm killing all of my friends, because I'm not. That would be crazy."

"No. I never said that." He readjusts his seating. "I just think it's funny how another one of your friends is somehow dead."

"Really? Because I don't."

"I didn't mean to say it like that." Li Fu pauses, as he examines his brother's bored and irritated expression. "I just don't understand why you haven't told me about this other friend of yours."

"I don't know." Yong narrows his eyes, "Maybe because I never tell you anything."

"So, tell me now."

Yong shakes his head, "Tell you what?"

"Who was this other friend of yours?"

Yong takes a deep breath, "Or I could not tell you." He watches as his brother just stares in interest. "Do you really want to know? It's not a pretty story."

"Well," Li Fu pauses. "I would like to know what my little brother has been going through."

Yong nods, "Right." and then shakes it with a grin. "Well, this other friend of mine, he had his secrets." His brother doesn't speak. "He told me something he hadn't told anyone else, but after a while I realized it wasn't that big of a deal."

"So, what happened?"

Yong fingers through his long bangs in remembrance, "Well. His family didn't know this secret of his, and they just weren't very accepting. Like, at all."

"Accepting? Why—"

He interrupts, "They just expected him to behave a certain way, and he had a really hard time dealing with those expectations." _I still can't believe it happened like that._ "His family made him do as he was expected. Needless to say, he wasn't allowed back at the bar, and I never saw him again."

His brother looks confused but is clearly interested, "Then how do you know he's dead?"

Yong solemnly smiles, "Someone told me." He shrugs off the rest of the information, "There's nothing else really to it. I was just told that he had killed himself."

The magistrate's mouth opens in horror, "He killed himself, but why?"

Yong stays silent as the memory replays, "He wasn't allowed to be himself. Simple as that."

The elder brother shakes his head, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Yong rolls his eyes in frustration, "You know, I could explain this all day and you'd probably still not understand." He smiles. "It took me a long time to understand it myself, and believe me when I say it isn't worth the time right now."

"Okay, then." His brother tries to leave the subject alone, "What do you want to talk about?"

"How about nothing?" The elder brother gives a look as Yong stands. "What? You're the one who wants these conversations to happen. I only follow through so you will leave me alone."

Li Fu stares sadly at his hopeless brother, "I just want to make you feel better."

"What makes you think there's anything wrong?" His brother doesn't respond. "I'm fine. Okay. I'm always fine, so just leave me be." He takes a breath and shakes his head before exiting the room.

When he enters his own room Yong lies down on the bed, but he can't help but fidget as the memories of Chang replay in his mind. There was a night not long ago, where it was so dark and cold that they had just held each other close for warmth. They had a blanket, but it was so thin and the rips were so prevalent in it that it would have made better use as rags; however, it was all they had, and they had made the best use of it that they could.

Yong sits up and walks over to a thick, unfinished quilt hidden in a corner of his room. _His favorite color was red. Mine is black. This would have made the perfect surprise._ He takes a deep breath and brings it back to the bed, before he unfolds it and continues to sew the pieces together.

After a few minutes Yong can't help but notice the red squares seem similar to the color of blood, and he can't help but remember what happened as the black material reminds him of the darkness of that night. _Except that red is supposed to symbolize happiness and black is supposed to mean the beginning of something, so how could this have ended so suddenly?_ Yong shakes his head, as he realizes it hadn't been sudden and that they were actually together for almost an entire year. _A year of nothing but love, happiness, and acceptance. How could it have gone so wrong?_ Yong takes another deep breath as he continues to do the activity which typically calms him down, but it's not long before he realizes that nothing could ever be as it once was. _Everything has changed, and that will not change._

* * *

\- It's all very tragic, isn't it?


	36. Family Roles

**July 2** **nd** **(Day 7, Dusk)**

Mushu and Grandmother Fa stand in the ancestral temple as the head ancestor appears to them, "I hope you have good news. That last report was rather concerning."

Mushu stays silent as Grandmother Fa informs, "Li Shang has come back, and his attempts to make my grandchild eat have been more or less successful."

"Well, that's good. I think." The ghost rubs his chin, as he sees Mushu practically hiding behind the grandmother's blue dress. "You're awfully quiet. Tell me. What's the bad news?"

The small dragon pretends to laugh, "Problem. What makes you think there's a problem?" He sees his superior's irritation and breaks down into tears. "I'm sorry. I'm just so worried. She's been crying every day, and she's just been so— so—"

"Sad?"

"Sad and anxious and angry, and not even at the world but at herself." He becomes frantic and moves his arms around. "I tell her not to look at her reflection, but she doesn't listen and just does. It's like she's expecting something to change, and I'm just so worried for her."

The blue apparition gives a bored look, "And how have the parents responded?"

Mushu yells, "They're acting like it's not even happening." He takes a breath in an attempt to calm down, but it doesn't work. "They just tell her to do things, expect her to do them, and if she doesn't, then they sit her down for the same lecture they always give her." He laughs with a pang, "They're not helping her at all. It's just so— so—"

"Unbelievable." The head ancestor nods, "I agree. If what they're doing has not helped yet, then there's no reason for them to believe it to work in the future." He takes a thoughtful breath. "Remind me, why is Mulan in so much distress?"

"I don't know. She just doesn't like herself."

The grandmother elaborates, "They're not comfortable with their body or role in society."

"Well, role," responds the ancestor. "That's easy. Let's just let her continue to ride her horse or use the sword, or whatever other activity she's interested in."

Grandmother Fa hesitates with concern, "I'm afraid their parents aren't allowing it."

The ghost moans, "Oh, why are the living so senseless?" He crosses his arms while still holding the intangible staff. "I understand a woman needing to fulfil her duties as well as any being, but don't these people realize that's not going to happen if she's dead?"

Mushu mumbles, "Yeah. They should. Not sure if they really care."

The old woman turns her head down on the dragon, but she pretends to respond to the head ancestor, "I don't think my son or his wife want to believe this is happening. I think they're hoping that with enough instruction the behaviors will go away."

The apparition shakes his head, "You don't hope for behaviors to go away. You hope they never develop in the first place." He gives a thoughtful look. "So, activities appear to be out, but what about her body. I know I said we don't have that type of power here, and we don't, but we have to come up with something." The grandmother nods in agreement. "What about that outfit Mushu refused to burn?" He sees Mushu squirm while wearing a giant, fake smile. "Does that help with her body issues? I hear that she seems happier when she wears it."

Grandmother Fa takes a sad breath, "It does seem to help them, but their parents are beginning to reinforce feminine dress as well. I'm not sure if it's something they would even be able to get away with during the night. I feel like they're being watched more closely now."

Mushu folds his arms, "Yeah. This morning was a disaster. Her mother came in without a warning, and she even asked who Mulan had been talking to." He huffs and is surprised by the fire that escapes his breath. "That almost ended in disaster."

The head ancestor ignores the small guardian, "Is it possible for her to wear it to sleep?" He pauses in stress. "I realize it may not be the same, but at least it would be something."

The grandmother nods, "I'll have to suggest it to them."

The ancient ghost unfolds his arms, "I hope it helps. We need her alive and well."

Grandmother Fa nods before looking over the rest of the headstones, "Could I possibly speak with my son and husband? I miss them so."

The old man takes a deep breath, "I'm sorry, but there are rules. You're not allowed to see or speak with them until after your passing."

"That's a pile of—" Mushu literally gets kicked out of the temple by the spirit. "Rocks. I'm in a pile of rocks." He stands from the rubble of the stone dragon. "Well, that hurt."

The spirit continues, "I'm sorry, but rules are rules. I can't allow it." The grandmother nods in sorrow, before she leaves the temple.

Fa Thang comes out of his gravestone, "You could have let me speak to my mother. It seems like it's been forever."

He looks down on the decapitated man, "Sorry, but rules are rules."

"Yeah, and they're whatever you decide them to be."

The head ancestor floats above the other ghost as he's filled with rage, "You got to see her from that little stone of yours. That's enough for now. You can speak to her when she's dead."

Fa Qiang moves his son away from the argument, "Now, let's calm down. She's not going to live forever. We will see her again."

"So, you want her to die?" Fa Thang shakes his head, "Is life that unimportant to you, that so long as your needs are met death is okay?"

"No. Of course, not. I only meant—"

"You only meant that things will be okay again." He huffs. "Look around you. We're dead. I'm dead. Nothing's ever going to make that okay."

The father hesitates, "I don't understand why you're yelling at me. You're a casualty of war. It's not like I caused your death."

"Didn't you?" spouts his son. "You and that foolish dragon." Fa Qiang stays silent. "In a way, you're almost worse than him. He may have given me misguided advice, but you sent me to that war in the first place. If it weren't for you, then I'd still be alive." He quietly laughs, "And if I were alive, then I could have had sons and our title wouldn't be in so much risk. This is your entire fault. If it weren't for you, then our family would be prosperous and well, but thanks to you our title may not survive now."

The father calmly explains, "You were the strongest man in our family. Someone had to go. I thought I had made the right choice. I thought if any of us could survive, it would be you."

Thang shakes his head, "Why? Because my name means to triumph? It didn't exactly turn out that way, did it?"

Qiang looks down in stress, "I picked you, because you were strong. Your name should have given you confidence, but I didn't send you because of that."

He shouts, "You sent the wrong son." Thang sees his father's shock. "War isn't just about brute strength. It's also a battle of wits and quick thinking, neither of which I truly ever had." He narrows his eyes. "I may have made a poor magistrate if you had sent Zhou instead, but at least I would be alive. I could have continued our lineage and made us prosperous, while he could have brought glory to his name and our family's title." The tall man sinks to the floor in thought, "You chose the wrong son." and looks up to see his father's sad expression. "Our family line may end, and it's all your fault."

Qiang floats down to the floor as well, "How was I supposed to know this would happen? I'm not a god. I can't see what the future holds."

"Maybe not, but it doesn't take a historian or mathematician to realize that war isn't just a physical fight." He looks up in disappointment, "You've been to war. You should have realized that, and you should have made the right decision." Thang removes his head and places it in his lap. "You were supposed to be a magistrate. Do you give bad advice to everyone, or only those in your family?"

Fa Qiang takes a deep breath, "I'm sorry. If I knew what I know now, then I would have chosen differently, but I can't." He moves his hand down his mustache to his boat-like jaw, "I just want things to be okay between us. Tell me what I can do to fix this."

Thang stands, "Like you said, you can't go back. This can never be fixed." before he places his head back onto his shoulders.

Qiang watches as his son drifts away, but he stands as his own father comes over to him. "At least you were able to get a word in. That's the best conversation you two had in a long while."

"I suppose so." He sees the bags under his father's eyes, which seem to emphasize his tiredness. "What about you? Are you getting along any better with Mother?"

Fa Sheng takes a deep breath as he shakes his head, "I'm just not the man she wanted me to be."

"Well," Qiang almost laughs. "Hard labor doesn't make a man."

"Yeah. Neither does cooking, which is something I insisted on doing regularly."

His son smiles, "Well, I don't blame you. She wasn't exactly the best at it."

"Right." Sheng looks across the temple and sees his wife scornfully looking at him, before he turns back around with a shudder. "I just never really understood." He sees his son's slight confusion, "I mean, I know it's important for men and women to carry out their different duties, but what does cooking have to do with it? I mean, we all eat. Shouldn't we all know how to cook?"

Qiang gives his father a thoughtful look, "I never really thought about it before, but you do have a good point. It's not like women are in the army anymore, so it is something we have to learn eventually. Why don't we learn earlier, or why should it be more important for women to learn it? Like you said, we all eat, so why is it only important for women to learn to cook. That doesn't really help us."

"Exactly my point. This is going to end up getting us all killed." His son's eyebrows rise. "If we're in a place, such as the army, where there are no women, then we will end up dead. Forget about whatever enemy we're facing. If we don't know how to cook, wash clothes, or mend materials, then we're already done for. With how things are, we wouldn't survive a day without them."

"Except that we have before." Qiang laughs, "You're being a little dramatic, don't you think? You don't need the best cooking or sewing skills to survive. You just need to know the basics, and those are pretty easy to figure out." He shrugs, "Or at least they are for those who are resourceful, and with so many men someone ought to be."

"Right." Sheng takes a calming breath. "I don't know what I was thinking. If things are this way, then there's probably a reason for it."

"Well, of course there's a reason for it. Confucius was a smart man. He may have saved us all." His father doesn't respond, and tension seems to stem between them. "I'm going to see if I can get a decent conversation out of Mother."

"Right," replies Fa Sheng. "I think I will just—" He motions to his stone. "I think I'm just going to sleep or something."

"Okay. You do that."

Sheng pulls at his long, medium-grey beard as he watches his son awkwardly move away. The silence seems deafening as the other beings seem to stare, so he hides within his tombstone. _I feel so stupid. Why did I have to bring it up? I see how highly everyone considers family roles to be, so why don't I just keep my mouth shut? It's not that hard. If you don't understand something, then just don't talk about it. It's just that easy. Ugh. I'm such an idiot._

* * *

\- Poor ghostie is being too hard on himself. Don't worry. You'll all move on... eventually.


	37. The Facade

**July 2** **nd** **(Day 7, Night)**

A hand grabs hold of Ping's arm, and she turns back around in fear. "You will pay attention when I speak to you."

Ping takes an unsteady breath, "Of course, Father."

He lets go of his tight grip, "If you don't want your entire family to become homeless, then you will do as I say."

"I understand."

Her father smiles but anger is still apparent beneath his expression, "You will marry Li Shang within the month, you will consummate your marriage, and you will bear children to continue our family's legacy."

Ping takes an unsteady breath, "Yes, Father."

He towers over her, "You will enact the duties of a daughter and woman, and whatever you remember from your time as a man you will forget. You will not disobey this by doing any activities only men are allowed, and if you mention any memory of being a man, then we will not acknowledge it. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Father." There's silence as Fa Zhou looks at her with judging eyes. "But what about the festival? The emperor has ordered me to be there."

"You are a woman. Pretending to be a man is a waste of time and will only distract you from your duties. I'm sure if I explain our situation, then the emperor will understand."

"But—"

"But nothing. You have no say in this, and from now on you will only speak when spoken to." Ping can only nod. "How I ever ended up with a daughter like you is beyond me."

Ping opens her mouth, about to say that she wasn't really his daughter, but as she looks over herself she realizes nothing could ever convince him of that. She shuts her mouth, flustered, before her mother comes in with the food. They sit down at the table, and Ping gets stares of discontent until she realizes she's supposed to serve to tea. "Sorry." She begins with her father, then mother, and lastly herself, before she does the same with the food.

Fa Li notices the very small amount that Ping offers herself, "You can have more."

Ping shakes her head as she moves some items around the plate, "I'm not very hungry."

Fa Zhou turns to his wife, "Where is the general?"

Fa Li takes a sip of tea, "He's in the fields." She takes another sip. "What a fine man he is. So hard working and generous."

"I should go help him."

Ping stands up, but her father points a finger at her, "No. The fields are man's work." He looks down on her plate. "You haven't eaten anything. I expect you to finish those crumbs you gave yourself."

Ping looks at the small dumplings, wondering how they could have been compared to crumbs, before she sits down and nibbles on one. Throughout the meal she's given glances, which show she should be eating more, but by the end of the meal only one of the two dumplings are finished. Her mother comments, "You need to start eating more."

"Sorry," Ping lies as she remembers the consequences. "I'm just not very hungry."

Fa Li takes a frustrated breath, "Come on. It's time for your sewing lesson."

Ping sees her mother turn around and begins to follow, before her stomach stabs her with a pang of hunger and he awakes. His stomach growls, and he begins to feel sick, but he knows the feeling will still be there even if he decides to eat. _So, what's the point?_

Ping stands up feeling light headed, but his mind holds a sense of clarity, so he walks through the dim, morning light to the wardrobe. His breathing is shallow as he takes out blue and green fabrics, but he walks steadily as he makes his way to the washroom.

* * *

After Ping finishes getting ready and comes back in from the well he puts the bucket of water on the wooden kitchen table. He looks around the room and finds many meals preserved, so he takes out the dumplings and recooks them. The smell makes him gag, but as usual nothing comes and he can only hold his stomach as it finally whines.

When the food and tea are finished Ping walks to the dining room and sets them on the table, but he's surprised to see his mother walk in, "What are you doing?"

Fa Li gives her daughter a surprised look, "What am I doing? What are you doing up?" She gestures to the food, "And what is this?" Ping can't tell whether his mother is proud or disappointed. "The sun has only just risen. How do you already have breakfast ready?"

Ping shrugs, "I just woke up. I thought so long as I'm awake, I should be useful." He sees his mother's eyes tired and wide with shock. "I also fed the chickens and got some water from the well."

"That's wonderful." Fa Li smiles, and her eyes begin to water, "I'm so proud of you."

Ping tries to smile, "I'm just doing what any daughter would."

Fa Li hears creaks from the hallway, "It sounds like they smell the food. Why don't you sit down, while I check on the condition of the kitchen?"

"What, you don't trust me?"

His mother shakes her head, "No. Of course, I do. It's just— I just need to know that everything's in decent condition. People make mistakes. You may have missed something."

"Okay. Fine. How about you do that and I continue to work the fields." His mother gives him a concerned look. "Don't worry. I already ate."

Shang walks into the kitchen and looks at Ping in puzzlement, "You're— You look—"

Fa Li smiles, "I know. Doesn't she look beautiful?" She puts a hand up in thought. "Granted, she could be wearing makeup, but this is perfect attire for the house."

Ping gives Shang an embarrassed look, as he remembers Mushu's confusion when he had asked for him to put his hair up that morning. Shang sees him try to smile, but with the attire Ping wears Shang can't help but feel the entire situation is just wrong. _This is getting ridiculous. If there comes a time where I do see him wearing makeup, then I'm not sure I'll be able to keep quiet any longer._

Shang shakes his head in stress as he sits down, and Fa Li comments, "What? You don't believe my daughter is beautiful?"

Shang laughs, "No. They are. It's just—"

"Just what?"

Shang turns from Fa Li's confusion to Ping's scared expression, "Nothing." He turns back to the food, "I'm just not used to it." before he sees Fa Zhou come in with a wide smile.

"You look beautiful this morning."

Ping looks over his dress and lack of binding in confusion and disgust, "Thanks, Father." _I think._ He rubs the back of his neck as his parents stare at him, "Well, I hope you enjoy the meal." Ping bows. "I'm just going to attend the fields, since, you know, I already ate."

Fa Zhou sits down after his daughter leaves and looks at his wife, "Did she really eat?"

Fa Li gives an unsure look, now realizing her assumption could be wrong, "She said she did."

Shang sees Fa Zhou glowering and recalls Ping's fidgety behavior about the missing carrots, "Don't worry. I'll make sure he eats something for lunch." Shang sees Ping's parents look at him in slight horror and confusion, before he amply corrects himself, "She. She. I said she."

Fa Li stays completely still, "No. You didn't." _Is he encouraging this?_

Grandmother Fa comes in with a calm smile, "Give the poor lad a break." and sits. "He no doubt had nightmares about the war. It's only natural Ping would have been in them, and since Ping and Mulan are one in the same it's an understandable mistake."

Fa Zhou watches as his wife pours everyone the tea, "Mother. Mulan is not Ping. Ping is just some facade Mulan put on, so she wouldn't be killed." He expects her to respond but continues when she doesn't. "Mulan is Mulan, a woman. She even dressed in proper attire today." He grabs his teacup, "Sorry if I don't think his mistake is understandable."

Shang cowers in awkwardness as he hurries to finish the dumplings, but he's noticed and Fa Li asks, "Did you like Mulan better as Ping?"

Shang pretends to laugh as Grandmother Fa looks at Li in disapproval, but Fa Zhou stares at him in interest so he continues seriously, "Ping was a great soldier." Shang stares down at the empty plate as he tries to pull the next words out of his mouth. "But I'm sure Mulan will make a better bride." He looks up and sees Ping's parents look at him with worry and suspicion, but with one acknowledging look from Grandmother Fa he gulps down his tea and stands from the table. He takes a restless breath, "I'm just going to go and help them." before he turns around and exits the room.

When Shang makes it to the tea field he stays silent, only a smile to greet him as he begins to help harvest the trees. The quiet has a tension to it, but it's friendly and knowledgeable. He looks over at the person in the dress, as they stumble over the hem and it tears. The person growls, and Shang smiles, "Hey. At least it wasn't an outfit you liked." He hadn't meant it to be a test, but after noticing the sincere reaction Shang can tell the man he knows still exists under that dress. He shuts his eyes only for a moment, "How long is this going on for?"

Ping slides down the tree and sits within its roots, "I don't think it can stop."

Shang shakes his head, "No. It will stop."

"No, it won't." Ping lays his face in his hands, "I should have just stayed quiet. I shouldn't have said anything." He looks at Shang. "Admitting this to you was a mistake. This was all just a huge mistake."

Shang sees the tears fall to Ping's face, "Being honest— being yourself— isn't a mistake."

Ping tries to wipe the tears away, but more fall, "It seems like one." He takes a shaky breath, "I mean, what if I had just stayed quiet? What if I just did what I was told and expected to do for once?"

"Then you'd still be uncomfortable with yourself."

Ping looks at the stable ground, "That doesn't matter."

"Of course, it matters." Ping doesn't react to his passion. "When you take away yourself, what is even left?"

"Honor. Family. Duty." Ping clasps his hands, "Nothing else matters, or at least nothing should."

Shang takes a few steps closer, "This matters." He doesn't look up. "You can't honor your family by pretending to be something you're not very good at."

Ping whispers, "I still have duties, Shang."

"And how do you expect to get those done?" Shang knows that by this point he's yelling, but he can't help it. "You don't even eat, because you're so afraid of what could happen. Are you telling me that after all of this, you're just going to let it happen and then enact the duties of a wife for nine months straight?" He takes a breath in an attempt to settle down, "I don't think you could."

Ping shakes his head, "I'll have to. I don't have a choice."

Shang's mouth opens slightly in disbelief, "You told me that when it happens you think about killing yourself. If it happens and I'm not here, then you could die."

"I don't think about killing myself. I think about stabbing myself."

"Same difference. You'll still end up dead." Ping can only sit in thought, so Shang goes over and sits next to him. "I'm sorry. It's just—" He lifts his head up and sees several tears, "I love you, Ping. I don't want to lose you. I can't."

"I know." Ping leans on Shang and holds his hand. "I love you too." Shang tightens their hold, as he's afraid it will disappear and the one he loves will be gone forever.

* * *

\- Man. Ping's dream Father is so much more scary. I wish he'd just say the truth, so all of that anxiety and fear wouldn't manifest in such a way.


	38. The Proposal

**July 3** **rd** **(Day 8, Morning)**

"I have a letter for Li Fu."

"That would be me." He takes the letter and looks at the messenger in confusion. "We have met before. Is it really necessary to speak to me in the third person?"

The messenger twists his head, "Ah. It is you. I forgot what you looked like."

"Every letter that I've had you deliver, and you can't recognize me?"

The man bows his head apologetically, "I'm sorry, sir. I just have problems with faces, and I wasn't expecting a magistrate to answer his own door."

 _Well, it is more common for servants to do that type of thing._ He tries to smile, "Don't worry about it." He looks at the sealed parchment. "Could you tell me who sent this?"

The messenger nods, "It was from another magistrate a few villages over, from the Fa family."

"Fa Zhou?"

The man smiles in remembrance, "Yes. It was from him."

"Okay. Well, thanks." Li Fu looks around but no one is seen. "Can I trust you to see yourself back out of this estate, or do I have to fetch a servant while you wait here?"

"I can do it myself, sir."

"Very well." Li Fu turns back inside and returns to the office next to the receiving room, before he sits down and opens the letter. _Li Fu, I am contacting you about your brother. General Li Shang, as you know, has been staying here a lot recently. He seems to care for my daughter's wellbeing so much that I asked if he was interested in marrying her. He didn't deny nor accept, only saying it was too soon._

The elder brother shakes his head and whispers, "Of course, it's too soon. The last letter said she wasn't even eating. Shouldn't you be focusing on that?" _I do realize that she may not be ready, but we are running out of time. I am running out of time._ The magistrate straitens out the desk, before he lays the letter flat and reads intently. _I have not felt well for a while now, and if anything happens I just want to make sure my daughter and our family will have a place to stay. I realize this may be a lot, and I'm not sure if your family will find it at all beneficial, but I trust that you are a reasonable man. If you can convince your brother to marry my daughter, then I would be eternally grateful._

Li Fu takes a deep breath and rereads the letter, before he takes out a quill, ink, and some parchment. The first letter is to the highly respectable Fa Zhou. _Fa Zhou, I am sorry to hear of your situation, and although I wish I could convince my brother to say yes to the marriage, I believe that he should have a say in a decision which will impact the rest of his life._

He dips the quill back into the ink. _Believe it or not, I have already asked my brother if he would be interested in marrying your daughter. He said he needed more time to think about it, but I believe he truly is interested in the idea. After all, your child is all he ever seems to talk about. However, if your daughter and my brother are both not ready to marry, then I believe it is our duty to give them the time they need to sort out their problems._

 _I hope you understand._ He readjusts his seating. _I already gave my brother until spring to decide whether or not to marry your daughter. I realize this may be an inconvenience, but I assure you that everything will be okay. If anything happens between now and then, our house has a few spare rooms if your family would need a place to stay until things are sorted out. I apologize for any inconvenience, and I wish you the best of luck._

He shakes his head as he dips the quill again and writes a second letter, this one to his brother. After both are finished and dry he seals them, before he asks one of his servants to find the messenger and order the letters to the Fa family.

* * *

\- Kind of an uneventful chapter, but it shows what's happening behind the scenes... You know, as in what's going on between the brother and the father as opposed to what's happening with Shang and Ping.


	39. Different

**July 3** **rd** **(Day 8, Noon)**

"What's wrong?"

Ping takes an uneasy breath as he and Shang sit on the stone bench beneath the magnolia tree. Almost all of the blossoms have fallen, but memories are carried with them. "It's nothing." He takes a sip from the water-skin as another pink flower falls into his lap. "It's just that I was named after the blossoms from this tree."

Shang holds the plate of cut carrots in awkwardness, "I'm sorry. Is this not a good place to be?"

Ping shakes his head, "No. It's fine." and sweeps the flower off. "It's just a tree. There's no point in avoiding it." He takes a carrot slice. "It's only who I'm pretending to be anyway."

Shang sees the anger beneath his nonchalant expression, "It won't last forever."

"And it won't matter if it does." Ping remembers an earlier conversation with Mushu, "Everyone has to act and dress the part. No one looks in the mirror and sees who they really are." He sees Shang's concern. "Why should I be any different?"

He shakes his head with a disbelieving smile, "I don't know. Maybe because this is different."

"How? Explain to me how this is different for me, when everyone has similar experiences."

Shang takes a deep breath, "This is different for you, because we're not talking about experiences. We're talking about how you feel. We're talking about how you don't think certain things should be applied to you."

"Except that things do apply to me."

Shang shakes his head, "You know what I mean."

"Maybe." Ping tosses the white vegetable piece to the grass. "Or maybe I don't." He sees Shang's worry, "Like my father said, a lot of women must have felt what I feel right now, so why do my feelings matter?"

He lets out a frustrated breath, "Your feelings matter, because you're different. You don't feel like the word 'she' or female experiences should apply to you. You're not comfortable with yourself. That makes this different. That's what makes you different."

Ping laughs with an angry smile, "Maybe I don't want to be different. You ever think about that?" Shang doesn't respond. "You know, throughout the years that's all I'd ever hear. I'd have my mother telling me to stop trying to be different, and when I grew up, when all of these horrible things started to happen, she actually told me that she understands how I feel because she was a young girl once." Shang tries to pay attention but can't help but stare at the full plate of white circles. "If I went to the market, then Mother's friends would comment on how I walked differently, and the entire time Father thought I was trying to be different to get attention." Ping's breath shakes as a tear falls, "But I don't want to be different. I just want to be normal."

Shang looks up and wipes the tear away, "A normal man or a normal women?"

"A normal anything." A few more droplets fall, "The worst part about being different is when you try to talk about it—" He huffs a laugh, "Then people tell you you're not as different as you'd like to be." He tries to smile, "But I don't want to be different. I mean, who would want to be a freak?" Ping shakes his head and sadly grins, "I just want to be normal, no matter what it means. It's all I ever wanted, to just fit in somehow."

There's silence for a moment, before Shang asks, "Have you never felt like you fit in anywhere?"

Ping responds thoughtfully, "Well, after adjusting to the army I kind of felt like I had fit in there." He shrugs it off, "But it's the army. I bet a lot of people feel that way."

Shang makes a face, "Eh, not everyone, and those who don't typically don't survive."

"Right." Ping looks down at the ground. "I was surprised with the outcome. Our camp had at least a few hundred men, and we ended the war with less than a dozen soldiers."

Shang solemnly nods, "At least it was only three years. Things could have been way worse."

"Yeah. I guess you're right about that."

They're quiet for a few minutes, both contemplating their survival and asking themselves why they hadn't died, as the sun's light bounces off the pond and dragonflies are seen flying through the heat. The brightness seems fake to Shang, almost as fake as he feels himself to be, as it reminds him of the beautiful day which had led to that tragic evening. He would not be able to confess his dishonor to his father, but if his father truly held the same dishonor, then perhaps it wouldn't have even mattered. The rampant waters intrude his thoughts, before he sees the carrots again. "Are you going to eat?"

Ping had been contemplating why the ancestors or the gods or whatever entity would let him continue his miserable existence in exchange for the men who had real and happy lives of which they could have returned to. In comparison Shang's question is so off-putting that Ping has to look at the plate to remember, before he laughs at the food, "I'm not hungry."

Shang only pauses for a second, "Could you at least eat a few?" He sees Ping's annoyance. "I know you're getting sick of being told what to do, but I promised your parents I'd make you eat lunch. May you please just take a few, so I can tell them that you at least ate something?" Shang sees his reluctance, "Please. I don't want to lie. I'm kind of terrible at it."

Ping takes a deep breath, before he gathers three large circles from the pile and chews one, "You happy now?"

Shang smiles as he eats some carrot slices himself, "Thank you."

"Yeah, well." Ping puts another circle in his mouth to buy time. "I'm just saving myself. This charade won't work if my parents believe you're encouraging my behavior." He turns around and sees Shang trying not to laugh, "What is it?"

"It's nothing. It's just—" He laughs, "Charade. Façade." He shakes his head, "Is that even Chinese?"

Ping looks down with an awkward smile, "I thought it was." He pauses for a moment. "But they are words. I mean, I know what they mean."

"Well, of course they're words." Shang can't help but smile, "But they sound like something the outsiders would say."

Ping giggles, "Thanks for making fun of my vocabulary. At least I don't say 'you fight good'."

Shang sets the empty plate down and folds his hands, "Yeah. I guess I was really nervous."

"Oh, really." Ping holds onto Shang's arm, "Do I make you nervous?"

"A little."

Ping moves a hand over Shang's chest and can feel his heart beat faster, before he tries to lean in for a kiss; however, Shang turns his head away. "Come on. It's not like we've never kissed before."

"Okay. Yeah, but—" Shang glances at Ping's dress and hairstyle.

He takes a deep breath and rolls his eyes, "I was wearing the training-robe the first time."

"Don't get me wrong. I don't have anything against women." He sees Ping glare at him. "It's just— I liked it better when you were dressed as yourself."

Ping huffs, "Yeah. So did I, but we don't always get what we want. Do we?"

Shang shakes his head, "I'm sorry."

"No. It's fine. It's just that I'm different. And you may accept that, but my parents won't." He shakes his head, "I guess it doesn't matter. Even with how we feel about each other, I'll only be married off to whomever my parents choose."

"Oh, yeah. About that."

He sees Shang squirm, "What is it?"

Shang laughs with a big, stupid smile, "Your father asked me to marry you."

"What? Really? What did you say? You said yes, right?"

"Actually," Shang sees Ping's smile turn into disbelief. "I said we weren't ready, but I thought you already knew from when you were eavesdropping the other night."

Ping shakes his head, "No. I guess I didn't hear that part." He looks up. "Why did you say no?"

Shang takes a deep breath, "I didn't say no. I just don't think you're ready for marriage."

Ping tries to smile, "Why not? My father thinks I am."

"Could you just look at yourself? You're not exactly a picture of good health right now."

Ping laughs as his breathing becomes fast and short, "What do you want me to do about it? Eat?" He feels tears sting his eyes, "Like we discussed earlier, I won't be a picture of good health if I'm dead."

Shang shuts his eyes, "I'm not expecting you to eat more than you have to."

"Then why didn't you say yes to the marriage? It's not like my condition is going to get any better." He doesn't respond. "What's wrong with me?"

Shang sees the tears fall, "There's nothing wrong with you."

"Then why don't you want to marry me?"

He takes a deep breath, "It's just— Have you ever thought about the life you could have?"

"What life? I don't have a life."

Shang almost laughs, but the conversation is too serious to do so, "That's my point. You, Ping, don't have a life, but what if you could?" He sees Ping's confusion and interest. "If we ask the emperor to let you live as a man and he agrees, then you could own your family's property, you could enact the duties of a son. Any woman would be honored to be your wife, and she could bear the children so you didn't have to deal with it. All it would take is a third party."

Ping shakes his head, "A wife? Are you kidding me? Women may be beautiful, but I don't understand a thing about them." Shang looks towards the ground. "I want to be with someone I can understand. I want to be with you."

Shang puts a hand to his face in thought, "I just want you to be happy. I want you to have your own life." He smiles in stress. "And, besides, if I marry a man in a dress, what does that say about me?"

Ping shrugs, "It means you're accepting of me when I need it most, when others aren't."

Shang shakes his head, "You won't be happy like this. You need to be yourself." He stays silent. "If you are willing to sacrifice your life to be with me, then why don't we just run away together?" He sees Ping's shock. "You've done it by yourself. You can do it with me."

Ping shakes his head, "Shang, as much as I'd like to start a new life like that, I really can't. I have my family to think of. If I don't marry, then they'll become homeless."

Shang lets out a hopeless breath, "That's right. Sorry." He looks into his eyes. "It's just— I want you to be happy. I want us to be happy."

"I know." Ping holds Shang's strong arm tightly, "That's part of the reason why I love you."

There's a short pause as Shang smiles, "Seriously, though. This disguise of yours is getting a little annoying. Would it be possible to just have some Shang Ping time for once?"

Ping stares out at the pond, "Yeah, sure, if you can manage to get Mother and Father out of the house at the same time, and good luck doing that with Father's injury."

"Right." He shakes his head in disappointment. "I wish your parents were as accepting as Fu."

"That's your brother, right?"

"Yeah." Shang smiles, "He's pretty accepting of anything, so long as what you're doing doesn't distract you from what needs to be done."

Ping hesitates, "I know that's reasonable, but I would fail his logic."

"Why? Because you don't eat?"

He takes a drink of the water and passes it to Shang, "That among other things."

Shang finishes it off, "I don't see how it would fail his logic. If you being dressed the way you like makes us more active with each other, then that would be reasonable."

Ping shakes his head, "You're forgetting, I'm not comfortable with myself." He places the other hand to his head, "I don't let anyone see me like that."

Shang pauses to think, "You could always keep a shirt on." He twists his head to see Ping's look. "Unless, of course, there are other problems."

"Oh, there are." Ping inhales a long, deep breath, "But nothing's going to fix it, so let's just not worry about it right now." Shang remains quiet as the birds chirp, and they suspend their problems as they listen to the peacefulness of the day.

* * *

\- Does anyone know a different phrase to use instead of "He shakes his head"? I feel like I used it a hundred times in this chapter.


	40. Directionless

**July 3** **rd** **(Day 8, Afternoon)**

Yong walks down the long, dark hallway, and he holds a lantern as his only light. The hall seems never-ending, and it narrows with every step. Soon the walls become so close that the light glows upon it intensely, and Yong reminisces over the memories which are painted upon them.

On the right he sees himself as a child. He's walking into the dining room and sees his mother crying, "I just can't believe this is happening again. It can't happen, not again."

His father holds her tight, "Don't worry. It's not that bad. It will be okay."

She pushes him away and yells, "You're going to war. Again. How is that not bad?"

He shakes his head, "It's just not that bad."

"Why?" she interrupts. "Because you'll have your men?" He doesn't respond. "I swear, you love your soldiers more than you love me."

Yong's father takes a stressful breath, "You know how this works." He places his hands on her shoulders, "I care about you. We care for our family. That's all that matters." He wipes the tears from her face, but more fall. "Trust me. It will be okay."

She whispers, "You could die."

Yong takes a step forward, "Mommy, what's going on?"

His father looks at him in worry, "Yong. What are you doing in here?"

"I just wanted some water."

His parents give each other a knowledgeable look, before his father walks over to him and kneels, "I don't know what you heard—"

"You're going to war, and you like your friends more than you like Mommy."

Yong notices his mother bring her hand up in a horrified expression, before his father lays a hand on his shoulder, "I have to go away for a while. Your brother Fu will be in charge, so listen to him. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Are you going to die?"

He shakes his head, "No. Of course, not." Yong doesn't respond, as he sees his mother continue to cry but his father smile. "You're a brave son. We chose your name well."

Yong blinks and shakes his head, before he looks to the left. There's a painting of the stable on fire, and Yong remembers how his family ran down the path in horror as the horses neighed with panic. His mother held his sister in shock, as his father threw buckets of water onto the burnt building. A few horses are seen running off as the elder brother yells, "What do you think you're doing?"

The six-year-old observes his brother's scared expression for a few moments, before he turns back to the fire. The bright flames diminish, but his father has to run back to the well. Smoke oozes from the structure as another horse escapes, but it doesn't make it far with an apparent injury. Yong looks back to see his mother keeping the toddler turned away from the sight, and a few tears fall to her cheeks but she doesn't speak.

After the fire is out Yong's father shakes his head and kneels down in front of him, "What happened?"

Yong sees the disapproval on Fu's face, who stands next to a confused Shang. He looks back at his father, "I didn't want you to leave."

His father shuts his eyes and lets out a breath, "Yong, you can't do this. We lost horses." He opens his eyes. "What if the blacksmith had been in there?"

Yong searches each of the man's eyes, "I didn't want you to go." His response seems to stress his father, as a hand is brought to his head. "How is Fu supposed to take care of us? He's eleven."

Yong watches as the hand is again placed onto his shoulder. "Your brother knows enough. What he doesn't know your mother may help with." He takes another breath, which Yong notices is accompanied by glossy eyes, "You have to follow their instruction. Do you understand me?"

"Yes."

Yong remembers how he in fact didn't understand. He didn't understand exactly why his father had to leave, he didn't understand why he had to follow his brother's instruction, and he remembers how the hand on his shoulder tightened, "You can't do this again. You can't do anything like this again."

Yong looks at the stable's remains, not understanding how a fire could make everyone so upset, "I did it for our family. I was helping."

The man shakes his head, "What you did could be considered many things. 'Helping' is certainly not one of them."

"I don't understand."

His father looks over at the rest of the family in silence, before he takes a deep breath and removes the hand from his son's shoulder, "You will someday."

Yong shakes his head and takes a deep breath, before he picks up the pace and the memories begin to blur. The hall continues to narrow, but he abruptly stops when he meets the white door. He shakes his head and laughs, as he realizes in this case white is clearly a symbol for death. He turns around but it's completely dark, as the last gleam of light has disappeared.

Yong sets down the useless lantern and reluctantly opens the door. Inside, the room is lit of midday sun, and the accused stands in the center of the space. "It's nice to see you again."

Yong walks closer, "Why aren't you dead?"

The man laughs, "I am dead." before he removes his head and Yong steps back in shock. "Too bad dead men can't drink. I could really use some baijiu right now."

Yong smirks, "Yeah. It looks painful."

The dead man gives an unfavoring look, "Yeah. So, where's my apology?"

"Apology?" He grins, "You want me to apologize?"

"Well, yeah. Not only were you my executioner, but you were the reason I got executed in the first place."

Yong laughs, "You were a drunken idiot with no family or title. Being my alibi was probably your only accomplishment, and if not, then I personally think it was your best accomplishment."

The man throws his head at him, but Yong ducks and it hits the back wall, "Ow."

Yong walks past the man's body and turns around to see both it and the head, "What happened was your own fault. You got in debt, you chose to accept the job, and you didn't carry it out. This is your fault, not mine, so don't blame me." Yong halts, as he realizes the wall is blank. "Where did the door go?" The body's hand gestures to behind Yong, so he turns around, "Oh. Thanks."

When he goes through the next white door he sees a sunset out the window, which looks similar to the one he had seen the evening Bai was taken away. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Yong turns around and sees his old friend standing with an apparent frown, "I'm sorry for what happened. I should have done something."

His friend tries to smile, "Don't worry about it. There's nothing you could have done."

Yong laughs, "I could have done something." emphasizing the word 'something' to express how he should have at least tried to do something— anything— to stop it. He notices the red dress and raises a hand to his face. "Ugh. Is that really what you had to wear?"

"What were you expecting?"

Yong shakes his head, "I don't know. I just— I don't know."

There's a long pause as his friend responds in a hopeless expression, "I will forever be remembered as the daughter and wife of the Bai family."

Yong looks away for a second, "That's right. You took your family's name as your name."

Bai nods, "They were my family. I wanted them to be with me, even if they could never know."

Yong tries to smile, "So, Bai Bai. That's not exactly—" He laughs. "What was your name?"

He's given a look, "What? You mean the name they gave me at birth?"

"Ah, yeah. That."

His friend's smile becomes stern, "You've asked this before. It's disrespectful."

"I know." Yong shakes his head, "It's just that I feel like I'm missing information."

Bai takes a frustrated breath, "I really need someone to remember me as me."

Yong tries to smile, "I do."

"Exactly, which is why I'm not going to tell you."

Yong watches as his friend walks toward the next white door, "Wait." and he follows through to continue the conversation, but the room only greets him with the darkness of night.

"It's cold, isn't it?"

Yong turns around to see the strong man he had fallen in love with, "Chang."

He smiles, "After what happened I didn't think I'd see you again."

Yong takes an unsteady breath, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean— I was only defending myself."

Chang nods, "Yeah, but you still killed me."

Yong sadly laughs, "You were the one trying to kill me." and feels his cheeks become wet. "Why? How? How could you have done this to us?"

He shrugs, "You were a risk I was no longer willing to take."

"So, you thought killing me was the best option." He yells, "You didn't think to just tell me?"

"Would you really have let me go if I had just talked?"

Yong breathes unsteadily as his vision is blinded by tears, "I loved you."

Chang smiles, "Which is exactly why I decided to end it like that. There was no way a simple talk was going to make you understand. You would have tried to convince me to stay."

Yong gulps and tries to smile, "Did you love me?"

He grins, "Did I ever say it?"

Yong shakes his head and watches as several tears fall to the ground, "No. You didn't."

Chang laughs, "Hey. We had some fun, though, didn't we?"

"Fun. Fun." Yong raises his arms, "Is that all it was to you, was fun?"

He shrugs, "What? You didn't enjoy it?"

"Enjoy it?" Yong yells, "You're dead. How enjoyable is that?"

Chang's smile slips, "Yeah. I don't know what I was thinking. I could never win a fight with you before. I don't know why I thought I'd be able to kill you." He shrugs, "Maybe I wanted to die."

Yong stays quiet as he looks around for the knock, but no doors are seen, "Was our relationship that bad? Was it so bad that you thought I killing you was your only option?"

"I don't think I knew. I think it was just something I had subconsciously planned."

There's another knock as Yong comments, "I made us a blanket."

Chang laughs, "Too bad you aren't a girl. That would have solved all our problems."

Yong doesn't respond, as there's another knock, before his eyes open and he sees his brother walk into the room. "It's afternoon. I thought you'd want me to wake you for lunch." Yong looks at him in tiredness. "Is that new?"

He looks down at the large blanket, "Yeah. I just finished it last night."

"You made it?"

Yong laughs at the shock in his brother's voice, "Did I say finish? I meant bought."

The elder brother smiles, "Right."

"I don't understand why you insist on talking to me in the morning. It's like, impossible to lie."

"It's afternoon."

"Whatever."

Li Fu watches his brother wipe the sleepiness from his eyes, "Honesty is the only rule we have in this house. You might want to follow it sometime."

Yong sits up and stands from the bed, "Or not."

The brother observes Yong's perfect blanket, "You know, you would make a great seamstress one day."

"Shut up."

The elder brother chuckles, "I'm not joking. You do fine work."

Yong turns around fully dressed, "A seamstress is a woman's job."

His brother shrugs, "Say it's from Mother or your sister."

Yong gives a look and almost laughs, "I'm not going to be here forever."

"Then say it's from your wife." The younger brother becomes completely still, his mouth slightly open in shock as he remembers his obligation. "You will have to marry at some point."

"I know." He tries to smile, "I'll think about it."

The elder brother hesitates, "You have a lot of talents. Assuming that Shang and I remain alive and well, I don't see any reason why you can't pursue any occupation you wish."

Yong laughs, "That's kind of the problem. I seem to be good at everything. I have so many talents. How could I possibly choose what to do?"

Fu smiles, "Which talent do you enjoy most?"

"Why does it matter?"

The smile turns into a grin, "If I weren't restrained to a family job, then I would do something I love." He looks down. "I don't know what that would be, but you get my point."

Yong shrugs, "Fighting is useful. Literacy can be important. Sewing just calms me down." He sees his brother's interest. "It's not about whether I like something or not. It's about what suits my needs at that current time." He laughs through a grin, "I guess I'm directionless."

"There's no such thing. Everyone has direction."

"Really? What's mine?"

His brother's eyes are filled with secret knowledge, "The future is always subject to change, but I think I have a pretty good idea of where you're heading."

"Oh, really?" Yong walks closer, "Where would that be?"

Li Fu nods to the door, "Come on. The family will be finished eating. We should start." Yong shakes his head with an irritating breath, before he follows his brother out of the room.

* * *

\- To an outsider Yong may seem narcissistic when he comments on how good he seems to be at everything, but really he's being sincere. His default emotions are boredom and paranoia, and boredom can be a good thing when there's so many skills out there to master. Also, he has no friends. I remember a simpler time when I didn't have to deal with people. I would write, draw or paint, practice a couple instruments, shoot some hoops, spend some time with my plants, and maybe even go on or watch some science documentaries, and I would still find myself bored only half way through my day... I don't know if time sped up, if people are just getting in my way now, or if it's both, but I certainly know that I don't have nearly as much time to do things as I used to. Does anyone else feel the same way?


	41. Don't Ask, Don't Tell

**July 3** **rd** **(Day 8, Night)**

"Would you like to explain what you were talking about the other night?"

"Depends." Yong sips from his drink. "What did I say?"

The bartender sees Yong look up with his usual blank expression, "You were talking about your friend." He looks around to make sure no one's listening and continues in a whisper, "You said he tried to stab you in the back."

Yong grins, "It's just an expression."

"Well, yeah, but the way you said it—"

"It's just an expression." Yong gives the man an intimidating glower and notices the fearful reaction, "There's no need to talk about this."

The bartender takes a shaky breath, "I saw the execution. Your friend was murdered."

"What's your point?"

The man hesitates, "It's just—" Yong stares at him. "You went outside together, but only you came back in." His eyes widen and his brows furrow. "I was just wondering if you two had a fight, if this expression you used was more than just an expression."

"I didn't do anything."

The man laughs shakily, "I know that."

"Then leave this alone." Yong's intimidation turns into a smile as he scans the room, "This is a private investment, isn't it? I mean, you have no friends or family?"

The bartender tries to smile, "I have friends."

"Sure you do." Yong takes another sip of the substance. "Even so, you have no family. They died in that fire a while back."

"How did you—"

"I do my research." He sees the man's stress, "Stop looking so worried, will you? People might think something's wrong."

The man takes a deep breath, "I have done nothing but treat you with respect."

"You're a good person." Yong sees the bartender relax, "But you understand if I'm concerned. I'm not very trusting." Yong shuts his eyes for a moment, as the memory of his trust for Chang comes to mind and how it had been broken by his sudden betrayal. "I'm not very trusting, and you know a lot about me." He looks over the man in suspicion, "You understand that I don't like questions."

The bartender nods, "I suppose, that is understandable."

Yong scans several groups of distracted people, before he takes another drink and shakes his head at the bartender, "Bad things happen when people ask questions."

"I'm sorry, sir."

Yong smirks, "In this establishment keeping quiet about things is necessary."

"I know."

He finishes his drink with a large gulp, "Then don't ask, and I will try my best not to tell." The bartender nods and almost refills Yong's cup, but he stops him. "Don't." The man looks at him with surprise. "I'm still recovering from the headache I got last time."

After the man smiles Yong stands and walks over to the mahjong table, "Mind if I join?"

"Are you serious? We're not letting you take our money again."

"Let him play." Yong sees the two guys look over at Yang in disbelief. "What? You don't like to be challenged?"

The other man blows out a breath, "Fine. He can join."

Yong sits, "Thank you."

Yang smiles at him, "No problem. You're pretty cute."

Yong frowns at the comment, and the guys give weird looks during the awkward silence, "Is that supposed to be some kind of joke or something?"

Yang's smile slips, "It's just your friend—"

"Was only a friend," Yong interrupts. He looks at the man in suspicion, "Are you…?"

"I just thought a compliment would make you feel better."

Yong shakes his head, "What makes you think I need cheering up?"

The dark-brown haired man hesitates, "Well, your friend was murdered."

Yong laughs as he looks at each of the three guys, "I came over here to gain confidence, not to tarnish my reputation." He looks down at the damaged table and suddenly wishes he had another drink. _Maybe even a few more._ He shakes his head and takes a breath, "I'm sick of everyone's sympathy. I don't want to hear about him again." He looks up and sees several frowns, "You got it?"

There's brief silence before one of the guys answer, "Yeah. Sure."

Yong pretends to smile, "Okay, then. Let's play."

* * *

"I'm telling you we're dead. You're dead."

"No. I'm not dead." Fa Hong shakes his head as he tries to come up with an explanation, "This is just one very long dream."

Fa Min looks at his father in disbelief, "Look at yourself. You're a ghost."

"Sure I am, but this isn't real so that doesn't matter."

His son laughs, "But this is real. You're real. I'm real. This is all real."

He shakes his head, "No, it's not. It's just a dream. I suspect I'll wake up any time now."

"You know, your nose is as long as your denial." Hong moves his hand down it in contemplation. "You're dead. I think it's about time you learn to live with it."

Xue laughs at his father's and grandfather's argument, "If I were you I'd just give up. He's been dead for eighty-two years. If he hasn't accepted it by now, then I don't think he ever will."

Fa Min takes a stressed breath, "But he needs to know he's dead. Our spirits have to move on eventually, but he can't if he doesn't even know he's dead."

His son readjusts his round glasses in thought, "If you believe spirits must move on, then why haven't you yet?"

He puts a hand to his head, "I'm afraid. Okay." He sees the surprised look on his son's face. "I can't be the only one. No one knows what awaits after moving on. All we know is that people say they're ready to go, and then the next thing we know they're gone. Don't you think that's scary?"

Fa Xue shrugs, "I don't question it. I can only assume that wherever they're going, that it's a better place than this."

Min shakes his head and stutters, "But what if it isn't better? What if it's worse? Or even worse, what if after moving on we don't exist. What if we don't get another life after this one?"

His son pauses for a moment, "I think you need to relax. We won't know what waits for us until we get there, so you just need a little faith that it's better than this." He sees his father is clearly fearful of the unknown. "Like you said, our spirits have to move on eventually, so we might as well hope it's a positive experience."

His father nods, "I guess that makes sense, but what if it's not a positive experience. I mean, we don't know what happens, so how can we have faith that it's better.

Xue smiles, "I'm going to give some advice." His father listens intently as his grandfather tries not to hear. "If you're afraid of what moving on actually entails, then don't ask about it."

He takes a short breath, "Right."

"And if you're frustrated with him not believing he's dead, then don't tell him he is."

Fa Min shakes his head, "But it's absurd. How can anyone doubt reality? How can someone doubt what they see and feel?"

Xue laughs, "It's not that hard, especially if you don't want to believe it." He adjusts his glasses again. "If someone doesn't want to believe something, then they may decide to prove the world wrong."

Min grins, "But he doesn't even believe this is real. He doesn't believe this world exists."

He shrugs, "We're ghosts. As much as we like to pretend to eat, take baths, or anything else, the reality is that most things are useless to us now. We may be able to touch each other if we choose to, but we are not a physical form and can't even touch the corporeal world." Min nods in thought. "Do you really blame him for not believing any of this is real, when most of the time we can't even physically feel anything?"

Min takes a calming breath, "I know why he doubts this existence, but I don't understand how someone wouldn't be able to remember their own death."

"He doesn't want to remember. And if he does remember, he may just believe that to have been a dream as well."

He looks at his son tiredly, "Thank you, but this conversation has really worn me out. I think I'm just going to rest."

His son smiles, "I hope you sleep well." before his father retreats to his gravestone, and he's left staring at his wandering grandfather, who still believes this is all only a dream.

* * *

\- Yes, these ghosts are a different set of characters than the previous ghosts, but at least I haven't been introducing seven characters to you all at once. I can't wait for some of them to move on, though, because even though I have their character profiles I still get confused by how many ghosts are in the temple. I don't know if you would be more confused because you don't have the profiles, or if you would be less confused because you're dealing with less characters at any given moment. In any case, I find Hong's story-line to be kind of funny, even though I'm sure it's sad for the characters. Don't worry. He won't be with us for long.


	42. Hands of the Family

**July 4** **th** **(Day 9, Morning)**

Fa Zhou sits in his office with two men, "So, you want me to write a contract for your daughter's marriage to this man?"

The man nods, "The matchmaker said that his family is financially stable and that they need a woman who can sew."

The suitor elaborates, "My mother is a seamstress. It's been a main contribution to our finances since my father went to war."

Fa Zhou realizes by the young man's expression that his father must have died as well, "I will help with the contract." He takes out a quill and some parchment. "Tell me. What sort of dowry do you plan for this bride?"

"I was going to offer the bride's family some clothes, blankets, and a small portion of our finances for their daughter."

Fa Zhou nods as he turns to the bride's father, "Do you agree with these terms?"

The man nods and notices the magistrate's swollen knuckles as he scribbles the ink onto the parchment, "I don't mean any disrespect, but are you okay?" The magistrate gives a questioning look. "It's just that I seem to recall your writing to be smaller and neater."

"Do you come from a literate family?"

The man shakes his head, "No. I don't."

Fa Zhou replies in his horse voice, "Do not judge a man's writing capabilities when you have none yourself."

The man bows his head, "I'm sorry, sir."

Fa Zhou grumbles and stares down at his messy work, as he puts down the quill and stretches his hand for a moment, "So, the bride will be living with the husband under the condition of continuing his mother's occupation. Is that correct?"

The suitor looks between magistrate and his stiff hands but doesn't comment on it, "Yes. That would be correct."

Fa Zhou picks the quill up again and dips it into the ink, "When do you plan to consummate the marriage?"

"When I drop off the dowry she will be coming back with me, so I imagine it would be consummated within the next week."

Fa Zhou nods and writes the information down, but the quill slides from his grip and a line of ink is seen trailing down. The suitor asks, "Are you sure you're okay? If you're not feeling well, then we can find someone else." He's given a tired glower, "Unless you have a son, of course."

Fa Zhou takes a calming breath, "I'm fine. It's just morning stiffness." _I don't know why the tea isn't working as well as the doctor said it would._ He glances at the redness of his knuckles and shakes his head, "I'm fine. I will complete the contract for you." The men don't respond but still look concerned. "How old did you say the bride was?"

The father responds, "She's fourteen."

The magistrate nods, "That's a nice age for marriage. She will no doubt bare this man multiple children and sons."

The suitor questions, "How many children and sons do you have?"

Fa Zhou pauses as he stares down at the parchment in thought, "Not many."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

The magistrate shakes his head, "This meeting is about your contract, not my family, so let us continue." The men try to smile as more questions are asked and the likelihood of the marriage becomes more prevalent, but they can't help but to feel bad for the old man.

* * *

\- So, apparently even though arthritis isn't considered fatal, it is indirectly fatal in several aspects. As an autoimmune disorder, rheumatoid arthritis can increase risk of colds and other illnesses. Also, apparently 40% of deaths from this quote "chronic disease" is as result from some kind of heart disease, according to this one article... I swear, I literally just looked this up. I don't know why I'm forgetting the details already. Anyway, problems with lung scaring and shortness of breath is apparently another thing that can result from this disease. It would be a lot easier to just leave Fa Zhou's illness as mysterious, but I believe that as the author of this fanfiction (or any writing) it's my duty to know what's going on even if the readers don't. It just makes it so that if someone tries to look up the symptoms, then you don't look like a complete idiot. I imagine with his knee injury that this will eventually take a real toll on him, if it hasn't already.


	43. For a Lack of Trying

**July 4** **th** **(Day 9, Late Morning)**

Shang sits in the dining room with Mulan's family as they eat, but he can't help but notice Ping's lack of participation, "You made the food. Shouldn't you be eating it?"

Ping shakes his head and is given a sharp look from his mother, "I had a big breakfast."

Fa Li responds in disbelief, "You didn't eat with us, so how do we know it actually happened?"

He shrugs, "It happened. I ate. Forget about it."

There's a knock, so Fa Zhou stands, "I will get it." as he walks towards the hallway and heads for the entry door of the receiving room.

Shang looks at Ping in concern, "You will eat dinner, right?"

Ping smiles, "If it's with you, then I don't see how I can refuse."

Fa Li interrupts, "Li Shang, I hear my husband asked you to marry our daughter."

He tries to smile, "Yes. That would be correct."

"But you said no."

"I didn't say no." Shang shakes his head, "I just don't believe we're ready for marriage yet."

"But you plan to marry her, you're saying?"

Shang hesitates, "I'm thinking about it."

She nods but doesn't say anything, as Fa Zhou has returned to the room. He hands two letters to Shang and keeps one for himself, "I'm told we each got one from your brother, but I'm afraid he couldn't remember who sent the other."

Shang nods as he puts down the chopsticks and opens the first letter. Ping sees him grin, "What is it? Who's it from?"

His smile slips, "Oh. It's from the guys." The parents give him a look. "They're glad to know you're coming to the festival as well, but I'm afraid they have no information for what will happen."

"Oh." Ping hesitates, "May I see it?"

Shang hands it to him without a second thought, but it's clear that the mother disagrees with the action, "What? It's just a letter."

She shakes her head, "You said it's 'from the guys', and I don't need the army to influence her any more than it already has."

Ping lays the letter down, "How has it influenced me, huh? And why should I not be able to read what my friends have sent?"

"You're a woman."

Ping takes a small breath, "Yeah. You keep saying that, but it doesn't answer my questions."

Fa Zhou grumbles from the news of his own letter, but he also pays attention to the argument which unfolds in front of him. "The army has changed you, and those men are not your friends."

Ping laughs, "Really, because I read the letter, and it seems an awful like they still consider me to be a friend."

"They didn't write it, did they?" Shang and Ping give each other a look, but neither reply. "I'm sure they had to keep up appearances, but they are not your friends." Ping frowns with glooming eyes. "As for your other question, I heard what you said the other day." Ping shakes his head as Shang looks at them both in confusion. "I heard you talking to yourself, saying that you don't recognize yourself and how you feel like you don't exist. The army has changed you. You can't deny it."

Ping shakes his head, "You weren't—" _You weren't supposed to hear that._ "I didn't say anything. I don't know what you're talking about."

Fa Zhou sees his daughter's stress, "Mulan, you were in a war. Not only that, but you were a woman surrounded only by men for three years." He gets her attention but mistakes the sad annoyance with boredom. "It would only be natural for you to feel like who you were no longer exists."

Ping places a hand to his head and attempts to steady his breathing so that no tears will become apparent, "I haven't changed. I've always been this way. It's just that now I'm more open about it." He looks over the sleeves of his blue dress. "Or at least I was."

Fa Li shakes her head, "No. Listen to your father. The war has changed you."

Shang looks over the situation in hidden disbelief, as he sees a tear fall to the table and Ping speaks. "Why is this so hard for you to understand? I may be different, but this is who I am."

"No." Fa Li takes a sip of the tea, "No one's different. That's impossible." She sees her daughter's shock. "You're a woman. You're only acting like this because you were surrounded by so many men for so long, but once you readjust to your home life you will behave like a woman again."

"Again?" Ping almost laughs in shock, "Did you forget how horrible I was at being a bride before I left?" Her mother doesn't react. "I failed the matchmaker three times."

"Well, you weren't trying."

Fa Zhou looks at his wife in hesitance, "I'm sure she tried."

Fa Li smiles her doubt, "She couldn't even bother to show up on time. You call that trying?" Fa Zhou doesn't respond. "Not only that, but she took the horse." She stares down Ping, "You could have at least walked like every other girl had to."

Ping doesn't know how to respond, so Shang interrupts, "I still have that other letter."

Fa Zhou welcomes the end to the argument, "Let's hear it."

Shang nods and begins to read as Fa Li gives her husband a look of disapproval, but he ignores it and listens when Shang shows his disappointment, "There's been a change in plans."

"What plans?"

"Well," Shang scans the letter again. "My brother says that the bride he has in mind for Yong won't be able to remarry until the end of summer, so it's my marriage which will be held this spring."

"What does that mean?" asks Ping.

Shang takes a deep breath, "It means that I have until midwinter to decide whether or not I want to marry you."

"But that's good, isn't it? I mean, we still have about five or six months left to decide."

Shang sees the parents' odd reactions from Ping's comment, "There's something else."

Fa Zhou ignores his daughter's assumption that she has a choice in the marriage, "What is it?"

Shang hesitates, "He would like to meet them."

Fa Zhou shakes his head, "No. No. He can't see her like this."

Shang glances over Ping's thinness, "He saw your letter to me. He already knows."

The magistrate grumbles, "When do you plan to leave?"

Shang looks over at Ping, who shrugs, "Well, how about we harvest some more tea this week, and then after the barley is harvested we can go?"

Shang nods, "That sounds like a decent plan."

Fa Zhou questions, "So, you will be leaving within three weeks?"

Ping nods, "I would say that's about right. It would probably take place around the next new moon." Ping frowns. "That's a long time from now."

Fa Zhou nods, "I will let Li Fu know about when you should arrive." He looks first to Shang, "I expect hard work." and then to Ping. "And decent behavior."

Fa Zhou walks out of the room, before Shang responds, "I'm sorry about that."

Ping replies, "Don't worry about it." before he sees his mother. "Let's just get out of here."

Shang sees Ping walk towards the exit, "But we haven't finished eating yet." He's given a look. "I mean, I haven't finished eating yet." Ping's expression doesn't change. "Well, I guess there's always dinner." Shang sees Ping's slight smile through his sad expression, before he nods apologetically to Fa Li and follows him out of the room.

* * *

\- So excited for that meeting to happen. Sadly, I have not written it yet, and we still have about 30 more prewritten chapters to get through before I get to do any more writing. I don't know if the chapters just started to get shorter the further I went or if it's just because of all of the character and plot-lines, but either way I'm still going to try to make it so that the document doesn't go over 500 pgs. I have this rule to double the amount of document pgs to see how many book pgs there would be (actually, I should be multiplying it by three to be more accurate), and there's no way anyone would ever read or purchase a 1,000 paged book. I will be so happy if any of you make it to the end of this fic. The terrible length of this is just something I'm going to have to learn from for next time. As of now I have 338 pages in my document, so using my rule that would be equivalent to a 676 page book. That's about the same amount of pages of that one Harry Potter book that took me five years to read, so I know how painful this must be for some of you. Honestly, I'm so sorry.


	44. I Just Want to be Alive

**July 4** **th** **(Day 9, Sunset)**

"You said you would eat something."

Ping shakes his head and unnoticeably trembles from his never-ending fear, "Sorry. I guess I'm just not very hungry." as they both sit in their usual spot beneath the magnolia tree.

Shang hears the rumble, "Your stomach seems to disagree."

Ping places a hand over his mouth to steady his breathing, "I'm sorry. It's just that I haven't had it in a while, and I'm afraid it could come back at any time."

Shang takes in a deep breath before slowly exhaling it back out, "Remind me. What does food have to do with this?"

"It just makes it more likely to happen. If you eat less, then it can be delayed."

Shang pauses for a moment, "But you said it's been delayed for a few months." He sees Ping gulp down unseen tears. "In my experience, if things don't happen for a while, then that means they won't. Usually if something doesn't happen for a long time, then it won't happen again."

Ping shakes his head, "This is different. The longer it doesn't happen, the more likely it will return." He pauses before mumbling in a high whisper, "And with the lack of exercise I'm lucky it hasn't already." He sees Shang's concern, "I'm sorry, but I'm just too scared. I can't eat. I'm not taking any risks when it comes to this."

He looks down at the rice-bowl, "I understand why you feel like you can't eat, but I would still like you to eat something."

The tears fall, "You don't understand. What if it were to happen to you? How would you feel?"

"It's what, a few days? Maybe a week?" He doesn't respond. "If it's only a week, then I'd man up and just deal with it."

Ping slightly laughs in disbelief, "You don't mean that."

"Yes. I do."

He puts a hand to his head, "It would happen every month, Shang."

"Yeah, but only for a week." He hears Ping's breathing quicken, "Sorry. I just don't understand why you're making such a big deal out of this."

"Because it is a big deal," Ping shouts. "It feels so wrong, and it makes me so sad and anxious."

Shang shrugs, "Then talk to people, talk to me, but you can't live without food."

"Well, maybe I don't want to." Shang becomes quiet. "I don't want to live like this."

Shang shakes his head, "Then don't. Dress the way you like and do what you want to do."

Ping takes a stressed breath, "That's not going to keep it from coming back."

Shang shakes his head again, before he complains, "I don't understand why you're acting like this. It's perfectly normal for women to go through things like that." He's given a sad and angry look of disbelief. "You know what I mean."

"No. I don't." He shakes his head as tears fills his eyes, "I'm sorry if I don't want to consider stabbing myself again."

Shang looks past the rice and towards the ground, "I just want you to be healthy."

"And I just want to be alive." He tries to calm his breathing, "I'm sorry. Obviously I'll have to eat at some point, but I can't take any risks when it comes to this." He sees Shang's sad expression. "I can't eat as often as everyone expects me to."

"I'm sorry too." He looks over the man in the dress, "I just wish things could be different."

"Yeah. Me too." Ping leans on Shang as he watches the red sunset fill with grey clouds, but all Shang can think about is the possibility of losing the only thing he's ever truly cared for.

* * *

Fa Ying walks up to the large spirit and sits beside him, "The sun is setting."

Hong nods, "It's red. That means rain."

The small man replies, "It's already clouding over." He sees his son's sad eyes and yearning expression. "What makes you think this isn't real?"

"It just can't be." He tugs at his long, black beard, "I just went outside. Then I was here."

His father fingers down his long, thin mustache, "You got a head injury. That's how you died."

Hong shakes his head, "No. I don't remember a head injury. That didn't happen."

"Yes, it did." The white-haired man looks at his son in pity, "There was sleet on the ground. You slipped and hit your head on some sharp, large rock. I'm sorry, but you're dead."

"No. I'm not dead. This is a dream."

The chubby father shakes his head, "How long do you think a nightmare can last?"

Hong stares at the still sky, "I can't be dead. I don't remember it. This is a dream."

The head ancestor shouts from behind, "This isn't a dream. You're dead, and you must be foolish as to believe anything else."

Fa Ying looks at the angry spirit, "You're not helping."

Hong folds his hands and cringes from the yelling, "I just want to be alive."

The wrinkles furrow in Heng's forehead, "But you're not alive. You're dead, and I'm sick of listening to this delusion of yours. This isn't a dream. It's about time you wake up and realize that."

He shakes his head, "No. This isn't real. This is a dream." His eyes begin to glaze over. "This is just one very long dream. I'm alive. I have to be."

Ying's jaw drops in disbelief as he turns to his father, "Don't you have better things to do than make your grandson cry?"

Heng gestures to the large man, "He's acting like a child."

"He's acting like any person in denial." His father can only give an annoyed look. "I realize you like to be in control, but you can't control everything. So, go complain about something else. You're not needed here."

The head ancestor shakes his head in disapproval, before he floats over to the man in the floppy hat, "What are you still doing here?"

Fa Min scans the temple, "I'm not ready to move on."

"You're not ready to move on?" The spirit laughs, "You have no problems. Nothing's keeping you here, so why don't you just go join your wife and children in the afterlife?"

"What if there is no afterlife?" Heng's smile slips. "What if we don't get another chance after this? What if we're just gone for good?"

The spirit tries to smile, "Don't tell me you're afraid."

The man stutters, "What if I am?"

The head ancestor chuckles, "Come on. Stop acting like a girl." He sees Min's eyes move to the side in thought. "You need to be brave and move on. Don't tell me you actually want to stay here with all of these people and their problems forever."

Fa Min looks over at his crying father, and with another glance he sees Sheng arguing with his wife, "You need to understand. I'm a mathematician. I wasn't even sure what to think of the existence of spirits, much less the afterlife. The numbers just didn't make any sense."

"How so?"

Min takes a thankful breath, as he realizes he's been greeted with the ghost's thoughtful side and not his wrathful side, "If everyone's spirit lasts, then how is our world not overflowing with spirits?" He pauses. "Now that I'm dead I know moving on is a thing, but how do we know what happens? It doesn't make sense for us to just be put somewhere else since that place could also become crowded, and the theory of reincarnation doesn't make sense because more people are born than they die. So, how am I supposed to be brave enough to move on, when I have all these numbers in my head?"

The head ancestor shrugs, "Faith."

"Right. Faith." Fa Min shakes his head, "I believe what I see."

"And that's your problem." He's given a look of annoyance, "Just listen. If you have faith that the afterlife is better than this, then at least you won't be stuck here."

He shakes his head, "But the numbers—"

"Are just numbers." He gestures, "Just look around you. You didn't believe we could exist either, but we do. The numbers don't mean a thing. It's time for you to move on."

"If moving on is so great, then why haven't you done it yet?"

The head ancestor is caught off-guard, "Well… I've been told I have control issues."

Min huffs, "You're such a hypocrite."

The spirit hollers, "I'm not a hypocrite. You're a coward, and it's because of you and your numbers that this temple is as crowded as it is."

Fa Min smiles at the large audience, "I thought you said numbers didn't matter." The spirit takes a deep breath and puts a hand to his head, before he floats away and disappears into his tombstone.

* * *

\- For those who may be confused, Heng and the great spirit is the same ghost. The great spirit is not so great after all. No, he's just the oldest spirit in the temple who hasn't moved on because he's just so afraid of not being in control.


	45. The Bronze Item

**July 4** **th** **(Day 9, Night)**

Yong finishes the glass of baijiu, before he peeks over at the mahjong table. "Are you going to go over there?"

He shakes his head, "No. Things got a little weird last time, and I don't want them to suspect anything more than they already do."

"What happened?"

Yong takes a breath in remembrance as the bartender refills his drink, "One of the guys called me cute and it got a little tense, especially when they started listing their assumptions."

The man whispers, "What were their assumptions?"

He chugs down the drink and groans, "They thought it was weird how Chang and I always spent the night here." Yong shakes his head. "I told them that we were just friends and that we didn't want to ride back to our houses after drinking."

"Did they believe you?"

Yong shrugs, "I don't know. I'm not even sure if they really cared to begin with." He picks up his glass again but realizes it's empty. "They just seemed to feel so bad for me. It was weird."

"Huh." He observes the customer look into the empty cup again, before he sees the leather bag, "That looks new."

"Ah, yeah." Yong smiles, "I bought it a while back. Thought I should use it this time."

The bartender nods, "It looks really put together. Where did you get it?"

Yong pauses as he tries to come up with a lie, and he criticizes himself for drinking so much as to slow his thought process, "My mother made it."

The bartender nods, "It's some fine work. Does she do blankets?"

"Yeah." Yong remembers the one he had made for Chang and him, "Why do you care?"

"I was thinking about buying some from her."

"No." Yong painfully smiles at his sudden reply, "She's not really selling."

"Why not? She does fine work."

Yong huffs, "Everyone's saying that."

"It's true." He sees Yong shake his head, "Why does it bother you?"

"It doesn't." Yong pauses and stares at the empty cup, as he realizes what he said was actually true, "It's just that I don't understand. I mean, it's just another item, so what makes it so special?"

"It's good quality."

"Right." Yong laughs, "It's just a blanket. You could get them from anyone. Why my mother?"

"She does fine work." He sees his customer's irritation, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Yong smiles, "Nothing at all."

The bartender hesitates, "You mind if you could ask her to sell me some?"

Yong shakes his head, "Ask me in the morning. I might remember then."

The man nods as he notices the size of his customer's bag, "It's larger than what you usually bring. What's in it?"

"A blanket."

The man smiles and almost laughs, "Really? Why did you bring that? It's still summer."

"It won't be for long." Yong mumbles, "Besides, the bed was cold last time."

"Ah. I see."

Yong feels like slapping the smirk off of the bartender's all-knowing smile, but instead he asks, "Can I have another drink?"

The man pours more liquid into the cup, "Is this blanket one your mother made?"

"Yeah?"

The bartender smiles as Yong takes a mouthful of the baijiu, and he takes the black bag, "I hope you don't mind if I take a peek." He hears his customer cough from the drink as he lifts up the blanket and sees the bronze item, "Is that—"

"Shut up!" Yong sees the bartender's surprise, before he glances around and sees several stares. He takes a calming breath and whispers, "Give me the bag back."

The bartender sets the bag back on the wooden counter and waits for everyone to return to their own conversations, "Where did you get that?"

"I know a place." He finishes his drink and takes some coins out of the bag, "I'd like my room."

The bartender chuckles, "I suppose you would."

"Shut up." Yong gives him a look, "I'm only staying because it's more private here."

"I thought you stayed, because you're drunk."

"That too." Yong picks up his bag, "Oh, and you never saw it. Got it?" The bartender nods as he looks out for prying eyes, and Yong relaxes some as he walks up the stairs to the mostly private hall.

* * *

In the late morning Yong sluggishly walks down the stairs with his bag, and the bartender smiles, "Have a nice night?"

"Shut up."

A couple of people whisper before a man turns around to comment, "That's not very nice."

Yong doesn't respond as he sits down, and the bartender says, "No. It's fine. He just misunderstood what I meant."

The man gives an odd, confused look, "Oh. Ah, okay then." before he returns to his group.

Yong places a hand to his head, "Pour me a drink." as the insufferable pounding takes up all of the possible space in his mind.

The bartender questions, "Are you sure? It's not even afternoon yet."

Yong widens his eyes and grits his teeth, "I said pour me a drink."

The man complies but comments, "You know, you really shouldn't—"

"Be quiet." Yong sips the baijiu and yawns, "I don't need a lecture this early."

The bartender shakes his head, "Alright." and pauses before he continues. "So. Have you given any more thought about the blankets?"

"What blankets?" The man gives a look. "Oh, those blankets. Um, sure. Yeah. I could use the money." The man gives a questioning look and Yong laughs, "I mean my mother could use the money."

"Morning isn't your best time of day, is it?"

Yong smirks, "It's hard to think after waking up."

The bartender nods, "So, how about six blankets?"

"For what price?"

The man shrugs, "I'd have to see them first, but based on yours I would say certainly more than I would for any other I've seen."

Yong nods, "Alright. I'll get going on that." He's given another look. "To tell my mother, so she can work on them." The man nods, and Yong stares at his drink. "Just don't tell everyone. We don't need a lot of people imposing on our lives."

"Okay."

Yong gulps down the rest of his drink and says, "See you later." before he walks out of the hovel, finds his horse, and rides back to his family's residence.

* * *

\- Not to make anyone completely frustrated with me... So, I will phrase this differently... One of the signs of someone having a drinking problem is if they use alcohol to recover from a hangover. There. I didn't offend anyone, did I? I mean, I thought it would be better than saying, "If you're drinking to get rid of a hangover, then there's a good chance you're an alcoholic." Am I right? The first way I said it was way less offensive, so no one should be acting all defensive in the comments and saying that they don't have a problem... But if you still feel the need to, then you probably do have a problem. At least your recovery would involve nice, shiny sobriety tokens that can track your milestones and prove to yourself and others that you're doing at least something right. It's not like eating disorder recovery would ever involve anything as nice as that, as there would be no real way to keep track of a recovery in that same manner... not to make it seem like alcohol or drug recovery is glamorous or anything, because I'm sure you've gone through hell too, but if I had to choose between one of those recoveries, then sobriety would be a lot easier and have more reward in my opinion. You can feel the need to disagree. I don't care.


	46. Duties

**July 5** **th** **(Day 10, Afternoon)**

Fa Sheng puts a hand to his forehead as his wife continues to yell, but the words become incomprehensible as his head begins to ache, "I don't understand what I did wrong." His wife's arms are crossed, and she sternly stares at him as the bags under her eyes become enhanced. "I did my duties. I think I made a decent man." She doesn't speak. "Just tell me why you hate me so much."

Fa Lei rolls her eyes and murmurs, "I don't see why you didn't just work the farm."

"I didn't want to." He shakes his head, "What does that have to do with this?"

His wife opens her mouth and narrows her eyes, "You really don't understand what you did wrong, do you?"

"No!" He tries to hide his annoyance, but the anger steams out of him, "I don't understand what I did wrong. You just yell and yell but you never explain a thing, so just tell me what I did wrong woman so I can fix it."

She scoffs, "I can't believe it. How do you honestly not know what you did?"

He raises his hands and screams, "How could I know? I did my duties, but apparently that wasn't enough for you. You wanted me to work the farm too, but why? Why, when we had no need to?"

"Because you were bored." She sees her husband give a confused look as the ghosts surround them, "Yeah, sure you did your duties, but you were so bored that you did mine too." She puts a hand to her chest and sadly frowns as she continues, "It wasn't enough for you to be a magistrate or the man of the house. You also had to cook, clean, bring in water from the well, and whatever else." She swallows as her mouth becomes dry and tears intrude her eyes. "It wasn't enough for you to do your duties. You also had to do mine." She sees her husband become still with contemplation. "You left me with no purpose. All I could do was sew and bare children. You made me feel so worthless."

Fa Sheng takes a small breath, "I didn't know you felt that way."

Her frown remains as a few tears fall, "I just don't understand why. If you were so bored, then why didn't you just work the farm?"

He shuts his eyes and turns his head down, "I just wasn't interested in it." He looks back up to see his grey-haired wife's anger and confusion. "I didn't do your duties because I was bored." He sees her blank shock, "I did them because they needed to get done and because I liked to do them." He floats forward, "I thought it would give you less work. I thought you'd be happy."

Fa Sheng tries to take his wife's hands, but she steps back and whimpers, "Don't touch me."

He takes a shaky breath, "Please. I didn't mean to upset you." His eyes glaze over as he watches his wife wipe her own tears away. "I didn't mean to make you feel this way."

Fa Lei breathes full heartedly as she backs away and observes the tears which fall from her husband's eyes, "What kind of man are you?" He doesn't respond. "What kind of man actually likes doing the unwanted tasks of women?" He looks at the stone floor. "What kind of man— Tell me. You didn't like the idea of farming. Did you not like being a magistrate either?"

Fa Qiang takes a step forward, "Mother—"

"Just stay out of this," she yells through unwelcome tears. Her son shuts his mouth, and she stares back at her husband, "Tell me. Just what kind of man are you?"

Fa Sheng tries to shrug off the tension, but everyone is staring at him and he only wishes he could hide in his stone again, "I just— I don't understand why men and women are restricted like this. Why do we have these different duties?" The surrounding apparitions whisper, and he sees his wife's disappointment. "Why shouldn't I be able to cook? Why shouldn't you be able to work the farm?"

His wife huffs, "It doesn't work that way."

"Why not?" Sheng knows his voice seems desperate, but he continues in agitation, "I don't understand. Who decided that women cook? Who decided men are the head of the house?"

"Confucius." Fa Qiang gives a look, "Did they never teach you about him in school?"

The father slides a hand down his thin face, "Well, yeah, they taught his teachings in school, and I know what his teachings are." The spirits quieten. "That doesn't mean I understand them."

His wife gives a sad look filled with pity, "Things are this way for a reason."

"I know," the husband shouts in irritation. "I just don't know why."

His son tries to smile, "Would you rather have the world fall into chaos?"

Sheng huffs, "I don't understand how having everyone being able to anything and everything could possibly lead to chaos." He tries to scratch the salt from his face, but it feels as if the tears had glued it there. "If everyone can do everything, then wouldn't that make it more likely for things to get done? Wouldn't that make it less likely for the world to fall apart?"

His mother floats above the audience and spats, "Look at your wife. Have you not seen what trouble this type of behavior causes? What do you think would happen if every man acted like you?"

Fa Sheng stays quiet for a moment, as his father responds, "Jun, don't you think you're being a little harsh?" His wife glares at him. "Liking to do those things doesn't make him a bad person."

The woman with the white bun speeds over to him, "What makes him a bad person is that he's not letting his wife carry out her duties!"

Fa Lei mutters, "Not that it matters. We're dead now."

Fa Jun gestures to her son's wife, "Exactly." She complains to her calm husband, "Now that she's dead she will forever be seen as a failure. She will no longer have a chance to carry out her duties."

The husband pauses for a moment, "Aren't you taking this a little personally?"

"Of course, I'm taking this personally," She yells. "You only gave me one child. You would rather sew than have another son. What do you think that says about me?"

Xing-Fu peeks at the audience, "Darling, maybe now isn't the best—"

"It makes me look like a bad wife." She pokes him in the chest, "When you can't perform well enough to let me do my duties, it makes me look like a bad wife."

The husband bares his teeth and tries to laugh, "Darling—"

"Don't darling me," she yells. "You're a—" The wife looks over the concerned audience and tries to calm down with a deep breath, before she floats backward and fumbles her words, "You're a bad influence. I can only assume what problems your son has is your fault." before she turns away.

The strong, slender man touches his cap in embarrassment as he watches his wife disappear into her tombstone, and his son watches his own wife do the same as the temple becomes quiet and the spirits disperse. Several of the ghosts decide to rest in their stones as well, and after a moment Fa Sheng floats over to his quiet father, "Hey. Uh, thanks for defending me back there."

Xing-Fu slightly shakes his head, "No problem."

There's a pause as his son contemplates, "Mother had a lot to say."

The man looks at his son in regret, "Are you trying to ask me something?"

Sheng tugs at his grey beard, "I was just wondering why I don't have brothers." He sees his father look towards the ground in thought. "Why didn't you have any more children?"

His father takes in a soft breath, "I guess your mother and I just weren't compatible."

Sheng looks at his sad, smiling father in confusion, "I don't understand."

He shakes his head, "It doesn't matter. The past is the past." His son frowns, and then there's silence. "Don't listen to what they said." Xing-Fu places a hand on his son's shoulder. "You did your duties, you had six children, and you managed to stay true to yourself the entire time." He takes a troubled breath, "Even though things didn't turn out as you intended, I'm still very proud of you."

His son hesitates, "Well, ah, thank you."

The father smiles, "Don't mention it." before he turns away and heads for his tombstone as well. The son is left nearly alone, only with the mathematician, the delusional spirit, and the controlling ancestor arguing in the background, and he sits on top of the stone staircase as he observes the world below.

* * *

\- I didn't do a lot of research on Confucius, or at least not nearly as much as I have done with other topics I write about. The uncle I mentioned before, he was kind of like a Chinese scholar, so a lot of information in this fic had come from him. What would happen, though, is that I would ask questions and put his confident answers in my fic, only for him to read what I wrote and tell his girlfriend that it wasn't true. I don't know if it was a communication problem or what, but the way he had said things impacted the lives of these characters and the important philosophies that had impacted the ancient culture. The main reason why I even used him as a source was because I couldn't find the answers I was looking for on the internet, but you can try and look these things up yourself if you are curious whether it was actually like that or not. As far as anything regarding mental health (eating disorders, drug addiction, depression), gender, and sexuality goes, you can kind of assume that I both have researched it and know someone who's gone through it. As far as the ancient Chinese culture and philosophy goes, though, you won't want to take it as fact unless I directly say I researched it (like the medical tea that's mentioned). Even then, it's always better to double check these things yourself. You can't take a stranger's word as truth without knowing if they're credible or not.


	47. On Watch

**July 5** **th** **(Day 10, Early Night)**

Yong sits in the dining room and stares at his nearly empty plate as the dinner nears an end. _Those blankets. I suppose I should start them tonight. Of course, I don't actually have a lot of material left, but I suppose that's what I get for only buying before specific projects._ He shakes his head. _The bar would be nice. I could have some drinks and rent a room, but then there's those stares._ Yong picks at the remains of his meal. _I need to salvage my reputation. Those guys were way too sure of my activities. Oh, and Yang. He just had to start that conversation, didn't he? It couldn't have just been another game of mahjong. He just had to call me cute. Why? Why couldn't he just keep his stupid mouth shut?_

Yong takes a deep breath and grabs his drink, but after gulping down the substance he remembers that it is only tea. He sees the concerned looks his family surround him with, "What?"

Li Fu recognizes the agitation in his brother's voice, "How are you?"

Yong puts a hand to his head, "I'm fine." _Actually, I'm not fine. I need a drink, and I need to fix this. I can't just let people think I'm— I need to fix this, preferably before it gets to Mother._ He tries to give a calming look as he sees her disbelief, "Trust me. I'm fine."

His mother takes her teacup, "If you say so."

Yong laughs with clenched teeth and a smile. _What I really need to do is fight someone. It's been a while, and that seems to be the best way to prove your masculinity. But who should I fight?_ He remembers Yang's brown-hazel eyes gleam as he had called him cute. _Of course. He's perfect. Why didn't I think of it before? He brought up the controversy, so he'll be the one to put it to an end._ He smirks as he sees his brother's suspicion, "What?"

The elder brother shrugs, "I'm just curious about what you're thinking."

Yong scrunches his eyebrows, "Why?"

He pauses, "You seem bothered."

"Well, I'm not." He drops his chopsticks after realizing he was still messing with them, "I'm just thinking. There's nothing wrong. I'm fine."

The elder brother smiles, "In that case, you're on watch with Liu Xun tonight."

Yong's mouth drops, "What? No. I can't do that." His brother's expression stays the same, as though waiting for his excuse. "I have to go to the bar. I can't do this."

Li Fu tries to hold his smile, even though he's more concerned than anything, "You went to the bar last night. You don't need to go again tonight."

"But I have things to do. Important things."

"Like what?"

Yong notices his brother's clasped hands, "I need to talk to someone."

The brother smirks, "What? Does someone owe you money or something?"

Yong looks down at the table in contemplation, "No, actually. He just owes me in general." He sees the elder brother isn't impressed. "Come on. I have to go."

Li Fu finishes his tea, "You don't have to go anywhere." He sees his little brother's anxious expression turn into a blank stare. "You can always go to the bar tomorrow, but tonight we need you on watch with Liu Xun."

Yong crosses his arms, "Why do I always get the night shift?"

His brother smiles, "Well, I would give you the morning shift, but you're never home." He chuckles, "And even when you are, you usually don't wake up until midday or the afternoon anyway."

Yong rolls his eyes and nods, "Good point." He stands in defeat and heads out of the dining room. "I guess I'll just be on watch for the night then."

When Yong makes it to the metal gate he's greeted with a glare from the tall guard, "What are you doing out here?"

Yong huffs, "Well, I was going to the bar, but Fu thought my time would be better spent here."

"Your brother is a smart man." Liu Xun carefully looks over the heavy drinker, "You forgot to put it up."

Yong touches the black hair which extends past his shoulders, "Right. I guess I forgot." He smiles at the sight, but he lets it fall when he hears the other guard grumble. "Ah, I don't suppose you have anything?"

Liu Xun stares at the nearby farms, but the view is blocked by wandering dust, "Suppose I do?" He looks down to see the kid still holding onto the ends. "Why should I give you anything to put it up when you clearly prefer your hair to be down?"

Yong swipes his bangs behind an ear, "Who says I prefer it to be down?"

The guard almost laughs but hides his smile, "Let's just call it a hunch." He sees the kid's insecurity. "If you really want to know, it's kind of obvious."

"Obvious?" Yong sees the man look straight forward again, "How? How is it obvious?"

The guard tries not to shrug, "It's not that hard to figure out. I bet I could have guessed it even if your brother hadn't complained."

"My brother?" Yong sternly laughs, "What did he say?"

There's a pause as Liu Xun watches a distant lantern go out, "He wants to understand you."

Yong rolls his eyes, "And what did you say?"

"I told him good luck."

There's a long silence as Yong breathes in the calming, cool air, but Liu Xun speaks as the fields darken, "So, what are your plans?"

"What plans?" _I don't have plans. Oh, wait._ He tries not to smile. _I do have plans, plans with Yang._ He takes a breath in frustrated boredom, "I don't have plans." as he recalls his brother's orders.

"You mean you don't have plans right now."

Yong looks up in confusion, "Wait. What are you talking about?"

The guard smiles, "Jobs. Occupations. Surely you plan on doing something."

"Oh." Yong looks down on the dirt path, "No. Not really." He laughs in annoyance, as he remembers his brother's suggestion to become a seamstress. "Nothing practical anyway."

Liu Xun continues to stare into the darkness, "Since when is anything practical?" Yong doesn't respond. "You've beaten your brother in fights, and he's a general. Your eldest brother tells me that your teacher has never seen anyone so bright."

Yong interrupts, "Hence why the scholar no longer comes." _They're not that afraid of me, are they? Was I learning too much? Is that it?_ He mumbles, "I guess I'm too smart."

The guard inwardly smiles but manages to keep a blank expression, "You are a smart kid. I'm sure you will do well in whichever position you decide to take over."

Yong's eyebrows furrow, "I wasn't planning on killing them."

"Why not? You've never let anything stop you before."

Yong shakes his head, "You're unbelievable."

"You know I'm right." Yong looks up to see the guard's all-knowing smirk. "You've never let anything stop you before, so why would you let anything stop you now?"

Yong pauses as he recalls several times he had done things to get his way, and he has lost count of how many times he's lied to make things go smoother. _But this is different._ "I respect my brothers and they have done me no wrong, so why would I kill them?"

The guard gives an unsure expression, "Sorry. I just assumed that since they're in your way—"

"Except that they're not in my way," Yong nearly yells. "Just because I'm good at fighting and literacy does not mean I want to do it for the rest of my life." Yong takes a relaxing breath, as the calming thought of sewing enters his mind. "They're not in my way. I don't want what they have."

Liu Xun's mind is clouded with confusion, "If you don't want power, then what do you want?"

Yong shakes his head, "I just want to make something of myself."

The guard laughs, "Do you wish to be any more vague?"

"I need a good reputation, but I want to be known for what I've done." He runs a hand down his hair, "I don't want to be remembered as a man who continued his family's work."

Liu Xun looks back at the farms, "If you don't want to be remembered as a man of your family's work, then how do you want to be remembered?"

Yong shrugs, "I don't know." He laughs at an unknown thought. "Just a person. I just want to be remembered as a person with talent and skill and the ability to do anything if there's a need for it."

The guard grins, "Just a person. You don't wish to be remembered as a man?"

"Shut up. I'm masculine enough." He shakes his head, "Enough about me. What about you? What do you want out of life? How do you wish to be remembered?"

The tall man laughs, "You're funny, kid."

"I'm being serious."

The guard's smile slips, as he notice's Yong's ever-present frown and bored eyes, "I want a respected, well-known image."

"Is that all I'm getting?"

Liu Xun smirks, "Why should I give more?"

"Well, we're friends." He sees the guard's disbelief. "Come on. Aren't we like guard-friends? Allies for a specific job?"

The guard frowns, "You just threatened to kill me four days ago."

"Yeah. What's your point?"

Liu Xun gives the kid a stern look, "I have no friends."

Yong smiles, "What? Everyone has friends."

The guard gives him a look, "Okay, then. Tell me who your friends are." He sees Yong about to speak. "And not people you threaten to kill or use for personal gain."

Yong pauses as he thinks of the woman he usually buys fabric from. _Except that I only talk to her so that I can sew and keep a decent reputation at the same time._ He tries to smile, "I don't suppose family counts?" The guard only shakes his head. "In that case, I guess the only friends I have are either dead or I'm forbidden to speak to."

The guard grumbles, "See kid, you don't have any friends either."

Yong shakes his head, "Could you stop calling me kid?"

"I'll stop calling you kid when you're married."

"But you're not married." Liu Xun glimpses down to see Yong's confused smirk. "Does that mean I get to call you kid too?"

The guard stares forward, "No."

Yong raises his hands, "Why not?"

"I'm married to my job."

Yong tries to laugh through his angered grin, "Maybe I'm married to my job."

"No, you're not." The man sees the kid's annoyance, "Men who walk the streets to have fun with young women aren't married to their jobs."

Yong recalls his previous story and shakes his head, "Why not?"

"It proves that they are distracted and that their job is not the most important thing to them."

Yong laughs, "So, what? You've never done anything?"

"No. I haven't."

Yong's smile slips as he steps forward to see the guard's even expression, "You've never done anything?" The man only shakes his head. "So, what about when you're alone?" He sees the corners of the guard's mouth rise, "After a long, stressful day, you never do anything to wind down and relax?"

Liu Xun's eyebrows rise as he snickers, "Getting a little personal, aren't you?" Yong doesn't respond. "I don't ask you what you do alone."

Yong remembers the bronze item the bartender had found in his bag only the night before, "Right. I'm sorry. We should respect each other's privacy more." The guard doesn't speak, but Yong can't help but stare at his sword. "I don't suppose you have anything for me?"

The guard looks down at his weapon, "You threatened to kill me, remember? You honestly think I'm going to give you anything."

Yong shrugs, "I just thought it'd be nice for us both to be prepared." The man gives him a look. "Come on. You have to have something for me."

The guard grunts before taking a small dagger from his shoe, "Here, but I expect you to keep your distance kid."

Yong smiles, "What, no bow and arrows?" He sees Liu Xun squirm. "I'm joking."

He takes a deep breath, "I take life seriously."

"And I take death seriously."

The guard frowns, "You just joked about killing me."

"What's your point?"

The man puts a hand to his head, "You should take serious topics more seriously."

Yong laughs, "Why do that when this is way more fun?" He's given a look. "Come on, it's not like I'm actually going to kill you."

Liu Xun looks over the killer, "So long as I'm not any more trouble than I'm worth."

Yong grins, "You're a fast learner." He sees the fear in the man's eyes. "Look. I have some respect for you. Not a lot. I mean, I don't really know you, but so long as you don't do anything stupid you should fine. Don't worry so much about it."

The man looks down each end of the dirt path, but nothing is visible as he realizes he's truly alone, "Whatever. Just stay here. I'm going to check the perimeter." Liu Xun quickly steps away, but as he leaves he looks back and sees the other guard sit down in front of the large gate. _What would a killer consider to be stupid?_ He shakes his head, "Killers murder by instinct. How can someone survive that?"

* * *

\- I can't say it enough. I really like Yong's character. He's my absolute favorite in this entire thing. That's it for tonight. I know posting 9 chapters is a bit much, but I owed you for not posting the night before. Why 9 you ask? Why not 10? Well, I did the math, and if I were to post five chapters each night, then there would still be four left over. This way that's taken care of right away.


	48. A Better Place

\- There's been a glitch or something since I posted those last 9 chapters. I don't know if someone is supposed to verify that they fit the rating or if the mere amount just overworked the system, but whatever it was made it so no views or visitors are numbered next to those chapters. Therefore, I have no idea if you were able to read those chapters or not, so if you were able to read the chapters "Different" through "On Watch" then please let me know... I would also ask you to tell me if you can read this too, but if you couldn't, then you wouldn't even see the message. So, yeah... Have a good read!... And, seriously. There's only 3 reviews for this entire 40-50 chapter fic, none of which are new. You know you are allowed to get excited about a scene or frustrated with a character, right? I know this is probably a very... controversial and possibly even confusing fic, but reviews are still very much appreciated.

* * *

 **July 6** **th** **(Day 11, Late Morning)**

"Do you feel like coming out of there?"

The stone's words shimmer as Fa Sheng answers, "No. Just go."

Fa Min readjusts his floppy hat, "Why not talk to me?"

There's a pause, "I just want to be alone."

Min laughs, "But you haven't left that stone in over a day. Don't you think you should come out and live a little?"

"We're dead."

"Okay, yeah." Min straightens his tiny mustache in thought, "We may be dead, but that doesn't mean we can't have some fun every once in a while."

There's another pause, "People will stare."

"What do you think they're doing right now?" There's no reply. "Come on. You need to get out of that rock. We miss having you around."

"Not really," yells the mother of the sheltered ghost.

Fa Min turns around to see Jun still trying to comfort her daughter-in-law, or more likely, as they comfort each other by complaining about their husbands. He turns his head back around as Sheng responds, "See. I'm not wanted. You should go and leave me alone." Min hears some sniffles. "You're all better off without me anyway, ruining everyone's happiness. Just leave."

Min begins to whisper, "Look. I know your father has already spoken to you, but you need to know that you didn't do anything wrong."

There's more sniffles, "You don't mean that. You're just trying to make me feel better."

"Why would I try to make you feel better if I didn't believe that you didn't do anything wrong?"

There's a pause, "Why are you talking to me?"

Min shrugs, "If I was in your position, I'd want someone to be there for me." There's no response. "You didn't do anything wrong. Don't let anyone make you believe that you did."

"Everyone says it was wrong." He gulps, "If you believe it wasn't, then tell me why it wasn't."

Min looks around for prying eyes, before he whispers, "You were just behaving the way you felt was right. There's nothing wrong with that, and your wife may believe otherwise but on some level you were thinking of her. I mean, you did say that you thought she would be happier with less work."

"I suppose so." He stays quiet for a moment, "But why are you taking my side? Her view was just as valid, and with everything I put her through… Why are you even talking to me?"

He shakes his head, "Like I said before, if I was in your position, then I'd want someone to be there for me. It only felt right that I should be here for you."

"Except that you would never be in my position."

Min snickers, but with a turn of a head he sees curious faces. His smile slips as he looks back at the stone and lowers his voice, "Trust me, if I hadn't been so honest with my wife, then I'd probably be where you are right now."

"What do you mean?"

He takes a breath, "Look. You've probably noticed that I'm not the most masculine man." He pauses, but there's no response. "I'm a little more emotional and I'm not afraid to show it." Min shakes his head, as he recalls the head ancestor telling him to stop acting like a girl, "My wife didn't have a problem with it. She was glad she hadn't been stuck with one of those men who treat their wives like servants or objects, and we developed a real connection. What had started out as an arranged marriage soon became more."

"But you didn't take over her duties."

Fa Min hesitates, "Well, no. Not really. I mean, only if she asked me to."

"I'm such a horrible husband."

"No. Don't say that." He readjusts his hat again, "You thought she'd be happier."

"But I clearly didn't pay enough attention to her." He begins to cry again, "If I had paid closer attention to her, then maybe I would have noticed why she was always so mad at me. Maybe if I had been a better husband, then maybe she and I wouldn't have these problems."

Fa Min gives a look of concern as a few spirits float towards them, "Shh. Settle down. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Yes, I did. I'm a horrible husband."

Fa Jun stares at her son's stone, before she looks over at his teary wife, "He's not wrong."

The slender woman shakes her head as she moves toward her husband's stone, "Hey. Maybe you could stop crying. It's a little distracting."

"Lei? Are you really talking to me?"

She looks back to see Jun's disapproval but ignores it as she tries to stop the man from crying, "I'm here, and I'm not yelling."

"I'm such a horrible husband."

Lei shakes her head, "Things could have been handled better, but that doesn't make you a bad person." She touches her three hairpins as the awkwardness of the man's crying overwhelms her, "I just wish we could have figured out what was wrong sooner."

He sniffles, "You still think that what I did was wrong."

"I wasn't exactly happy about any of it." She pauses, as her husband's cries become muffled but more prevalent. "If I had known—" She shakes her head, "We could have come up with something."

"But I made you feel worthless." He sobs, "I took everything you had."

She hesitates in thought, "Not everything. I still had friends. All you took was my purpose."

"But that's wrong, so wrong. I should have known. What's life without purpose?" The stone's shimmering pulses, as his breathing becomes unsteady, "You must have felt dead even when you lived."

Fa Lei realizes the temple is otherwise silent, and she turns to see everyone staring at them, "That doesn't matter anymore. All I want now is to make sure the family lineage continues and that our descendants are successful."

"But we have no control over it. We can't even touch anything."

Fa Thang comments, "What about possession? Isn't that something we can do?"

Jun glances at the headless spirit, "Yeah. Like any of us have enough skill to do that."

The head ancestor puts a hand to his chin, "Not to mention, that even if we were good at possessing objects, if we get too far away from our stones then we could disappear forever."

"That's really a thing?" asks Xing-Fu."

He shrugs, "Why do you think I never let anyone out of the temple? Once you leave you never come back. I've seen people disappear before my very eyes."

Fa Lei laughs, "With your bad vision? Of course, they would."

Ying sees his father's embarrassment, "It's not just him. I've seen it happen too."

Min gives a worried smile, "Yeah. That's not a chance I'm willing to take." He sees his father by the stairs and rushes over to pull him back, "Wait. What do you think you're doing?"

"That's my way out."

The son tries to pull his father further into the temple, "No. What are you talking about?"

Hong answers, "Well, this is just a dream. If I leave, then I will wake up."

Min shakes his head, "No. We're dead. You're not making any sense."

His father smiles as he touches his shoulder, "This is just a dream, and it's time for me to leave."

Fa Min shakes his head as he tries to pull his father back again, but the ghost is intangible, as he clearly doesn't want to be stopped, "Father. Please, don't do this." The apparition turns around. "What if there's nothing after this? What if this is the end of everything?"

Hong can only smile through his confusion, "I will be so happy to wake up and see you and my wife again."

"But I am your son." After his father floats down the stone stairs he yells, "You can't leave me like this. If you leave, you will be gone forever." The spirit doesn't respond, as he makes it to the white bridge, and as he crosses over the water he disappears into nothingness.

Fa Ying drifts over to the devastated mathematician, "He's gone now."

Min looks at his grandfather in disbelief, "You didn't even try to help him."

"He didn't want to be helped." He touches Min's shoulder, "It's not our fault he didn't want to be stopped. He wouldn't even let himself be touched. Tell me, what should I have done?"

Fa Min takes a sad breath, "I guess nothing could have been done." The apparitions stare blankly at them. "Do you think it hurt?"

The grandfather replies, "I want to believe he's in a better place now."

"But the numbers—"

The great ancestor interrupts, "You and your numbers need to take a break." Min turns around in confusion. "Can't you see my son only wants to believe his son is doing well?"

Min shakes his head anxiously, "But the numbers—"

"Aren't going to do anything but make everyone miserable," yells Heng. He sees the mathematician about to speak again. "No. I've had enough of this. You and your numbers need to take a break. All you're doing is causing people pain, and we don't need that when someone has just disappeared."

The mathematician sees the spirit's anger, "I'm sorry." He shakes his head. "I guess I'll try not to talk about the numbers right now." The ancestor growls. "I didn't mean to make anyone any sadder. It's just that I don't understand what's going on. None of this makes any sense."

Heng grumbles, "If you can't accept what you see, then you need to learn to believe."

"I don't understand."

The head ancestor takes an annoyed breath, "Your numbers may have been helpful in life, but they're only causing us harm in death." He sees Min's eyes move to the side in thought. "We all need to believe that there's something better after this, but if there's truly something better then it's your numbers that are going to keep us from it."

The mathematician shakes his head, "I don't want to do that."

Heng smiles but doubt lurks beneath the surface, "If you really don't want to keep anyone from something better, then you need to let go of the numbers and make yourself believe."

Fa Min takes a deep breath, "Fine. I'll try."


	49. The Seamstress

**July 6** **th** **(Day 11, Afternoon)**

When Yong makes it to the house made of stones and dried mud, he knocks on the thin door. An elderly woman with light-brown eyes opens the door and turns back to yell, "Daughter-in-law, that Yang kid is here again."

He mumbles, "Actually, it's Yong. Li Yong."

The woman yells again, "My mistake. It's that Li's son."

Yong plants a hand to his head, before the elderly woman is replaced with her daughter-in-law, "Yong. What are you doing here?"

He shrugs, "You know, the usual." He sees the two girls and the one guy behind the seamstress. "I'm just getting more fabric for my mother."

The black-haired woman smiles, "Really, because I only just saw your mother today?"

Yong tries to smile, "What can I say? I guess she forgot a few things."

"Well, then. Why don't you come in and tell me what you're interested in?"

Yong nods before he enters the one room house. The left side contains a few chairs, a table, and a small loom in the corner, and Yong stays quiet as the seamstress walks over to the folded fabrics on the table. He glances at the three children again, as the son asks, "So… How's it going?"

"Fine." Yong looks away from the seventeen-year-old and notices the seamstress looking at him in question, "Right. Four squares of cotton and three squares of wool."

She clicks her tongue against her teeth, "Cotton and wool are expensive. Are you sure?"

"You don't sell anything else, so why do you ask me that every time I come? It's almost like you don't want me to buy from you." _Am I bad for business or something?_

"Nonsense," the woman responds as she sorts through the piles. "Your money is welcome here anytime." Yong would like to believe her, but some undetectable thing in her words or actions is making him more paranoid than usual. "Is there any colors you have in mind?"

Yong looks away towards the other end of the room and stands in awkwardness, as the children continue to stare at him, "Ah, no. Color really shouldn't matter in this case."

The son smiles, "So, your brother's the general."

"Yeah. And?"

Ruli's father gives him a nod to continue, "Well. We were thinking— I was hoping I could get a sparring lesson at some point."

Yong's eyebrows rise, "You're kidding, right?"

The son shakes his head, "After the last war we suspect that there will be more soldiers needed next time." The smile fades. "Possibly even more than one man per family, so I thought I should be prepared. I mean, aside from my father I'm the only man here."

Yong sees folding screens creating two small areas on the other end of the room, but he's been around here enough to know that no one will be hiding back there. He takes a breath, "I'm sorry, but my brother's out of town."

"What about you, then?"

Yong's mouth opens with shock, "Me? Why me?"

Ruli shrugs, "Your brother's the general. I figured you should be at least half as good."

Yong smiles, "I am, and I would, but I would need permission and I'm busy."

"Oh."

He watches the two girls whisper as their mother brings the fabrics over to him, "Thank you." Yong hands over the coins, before he puts the material in his bag. He smiles as he begins to turn to leave, but he feels a tug on his clothes.

The younger girl with dark-brown hair asks, "Will you please, please give my brother a lesson."

Yong smiles and kneels down to Mei's height, "On one condition." He takes out a few more coins and hands them to her. "Buy you and your sister something pretty." He removes the hair from her face and places it behind her ear, "And braid your hair so that people can see that sweet smile of yours."

The father interrupts, "I would like it if you took your hands off my daughter."

Yong frowns as he stands, but he soon understands the protective expression on both his and the brother's faces, "You're kidding, right." Their postures become even sterner. "She's the same age as my sister. She even has the same hair color." He sees the brother relax, but the father holds his ground. "It would be gross. You have nothing to worry about."

The father grumbles, "In any case, unless we have a contract I'd rather leave her untouched."

Yong's eyes slide from the father to the daughter, before he blinks and finds his eyes on the father again, "Of course."

The father steps forward, "You come from a good family. You don't understand how hard it is to marry off daughters who are impure, and if she were to have a child—"

"You don't have anything to worry about," Yong interrupts. He backs away and glances over at the brother, "You still want that sparring lesson?"

Ruli looks over the situation only for a moment, "Yes. I do."

Yong tries to smile, but he's so uncomfortable from the situation that he knows it appears awkward, "How about tomorrow evening? If you don't have a horse, then you can stay the night so you don't have to walk in the dark."

Ruli looks to his father for approval, and after a hesitant nod he questions, "Would it be alright if I came in the afternoon, so I could rest after the walk?"

"Yeah, sure." Yong glances at the door, "I'll let my brother know."

"Wait. Didn't you say you need permission?"

Yong shrugs, "In a sense, but if he disagrees I'll find a way to make it happen anyway." The family stays quiet, so he takes a breath and leaves out the door. However, when Yong makes it outside he's surprised to find Yang not that far away, "What are you doing here?"

Yang smiles with surprise as Yong comes closer, "What am I doing here? I live here." He gestures to the house next to the seamstress's. "What were you doing in there?"

"Oh." Yong looks back for a moment, "Nothing, really. My mother just couldn't stop talking about the family, so I just felt the need to see how cute these girls were for myself."

"Really?"

Yong smiles and tries to laugh, "Yeah, of course. Why else would I come here?"

"I don't know." Yang looks over him in suspicion, "You know, if you really came for the girls, then you're going to have a hard time. That family is really cautious."

"Yeah. I kind of figured that out for myself." Yang only smiles, so he changes the subject, "So, you live across from the bar."

Yang laughs, "What did you expect? It's not like I have a horse. Did you suspect that I walked over a mile every day just so I could lose a game of mahjong to you?"

Yong pauses, as he realizes that's exactly what he thought, "Seems kind of absurd when you phrase it like that." He only smiles as response, and there's something about it that brings a sense of peace to Yong, a kind of peace he hadn't felt since Chang. _No. No. I have a plan. There's a plan._ He lets out a stressed breath and shakes his head, "I have to go."

"Well, don't let me stop you."

He had been about to mount his horse, but Yong stops to look back at the strong man, "Will you happen to be at the bar tonight?"

Yong watches as the man's brown-hazel eyes shine and he smiles, "You can count on it."

Yong takes an unsteady breath and finally mounts his horse, "Well, maybe then I'll see you there." He looks at the ground as he starts down the busy, stone road, his heart thumping faster than he thought possible, but as he makes his way home the feeling begins to subside more and more.

* * *

\- Yong, why you so nervous? You can't honestly tell me you have a crush on the guy you plan to beat up. That would be futile.


	50. Reputation

**July 6** **th** **(Day 11, Night)**

When Yong makes it to the bar it's somewhat crowded, but there's still enough space to move. In the back right corner of the establishment Yang is seen sitting at the mahjong table. Yong pauses in contemplation of what to say, but soon he's seen and he has no choice but to walk up to the smiling man. "Hey. You made it."

Yong shakes his head and unsuccessfully reaches for the hair he had forgotten he'd put up earlier, "We have a problem."

Yang's smile turns into confusion, "What problem?"

Yong glances at the guys who now watch him from the table, "What problem, he says." His smirk turns to apparent anger as he pulls Yang from the table and slams him against the wall. "My reputation is a mess because of you."

Yang looks behind the angered man to see the perplexed audience and the worried bartender, "I don't understand. What are you talking about?"

Yong pulls Yang away from the wall only for him to slam him against it again, "The other night when you kept listing your assumptions." He yells, "Assumptions are bad. They make people look bad. You can't just spread rumors like that."

Yang stutters, "I didn't think— I just thought—"

Yong interrupts, "Well, you thought wrong!" He makes a blow to Yang's stomach, but as he reaches for it in pain Yong pins him against the wall again. "It's because of scum like you that well-respected people receive a bad reputation and are given a bad name."

Yang reaches for the back of his head and is surprised that no blood is seen, "I'm sorry."

"Oh, you're not sorry yet." He smirks, "But you will be."

"What do you—" Yang nearly falls over, as he's pulled in front of the audience, but he's even more terrified when he feels the sharp object poke at his back."

Yong glances at Chang's knife before whispering in Yang's ear, "Say exactly what I tell you to."

Yang slightly nods in compliance and speaks, "I am a piece of scum." He pauses. "This man is a good man. The rumors going around about him are all lies, started by me." He sees the audience whisper as the bartender shakes his head. "When he and his friend went upstairs, it was only because they were drunk and didn't want to risk injury on the ride home. They were only friends. They were not involved at all." He pauses again, as more words are spoken into his ear. "I made the assumption, and even though it turned out not to be true, I didn't stop the rumor because I thought it would make him leave. I thought he would stay away, and then for once I would win a game of mahjong."

The drunken, blue-eyed man raises a drink as he comments, "That explains a lot."

Yong notices a few people look back-and-forth between the man and him, "For anyone wondering, that man is not my father." He gets the audience's attention. "That's just another assumption people have made, which I'm sure this man was happy to continue so that he didn't have to pay for his own drinks." He can tell a few of the spectators disbelieve, "He is not my father. My mother has blue eyes, so remember that assumptions are never good."

Yang comments with a loud smile, as his nerves overwhelm him, "Yes. Remember that assumptions are never good and that they may even get you killed."

Yong takes a disbelieving breath as he shoves the idiot back against the wall, except this time his dead lover's knife is held against the guy's throat, "What's your problem?"

His breathing is unsteady as he shakes, "I'm sorry."

Yong growls, "If you're sorry, then tell me."

Yang looks beyond the man with the knife to see many people with blank stares, while others just look at each other expecting someone to do something, "Tell you what?"

Yong yells, "Tell me what your problem is." He pushes the weapon closer to the guy's throat and whispers, "Why did you call me cute?" He sees the man gulp. "What? Are you some kind of sodomite or something?"

Yang takes in a restless breath as he looks over the confused audience, but then he looks back and sees the angry fear in Yong's eyes, "Yes."

Yong's face turns blank as he takes a few places back, but then he circles back around to punch the man from below the jaw and yells, "Whatever your problem is, you need to stop spreading rumors about me. Got it?"

Yang looks at the desperate man in disbelief, "I got it."

Yong sees the tears gleam in his opponent's brown-hazel eyes, and he speaks shakily but hopes to mask it as anger, "Actually, just stay away from me." Yang doesn't speak. "If you don't stay away, then next time I see you, I won't be so friendly."

It takes a moment for Yang to respond, "Don't worry. You won't see me here after tonight."

Yong smiles, "Good." He looks around at the audience. "And just because I'm such a good man, I'll let you stay for the rest of the night."

Yang watches as the threatening man disappears, before he walks over to the bar and whispers, "Yeah. About the new moon, I'm not telling him about it."

The bartender pours the beaten guy a drink, "I'm sorry. I thought he was ready."

Yang tries to laugh as he shakes his head, "Clearly having a friend isn't good enough." and takes a sip of the baijiu. "He clearly doesn't accept himself yet."

The bartender gives a look, "I don't think that's the problem." Yang looks up in curiosity. "I think he's just afraid of rejection."

"What makes you think that?"

The bartender looks around the room, but even though people glance over at them he knows they won't be heard, "Well. If your first and only friend had tried to kill you, don't you think you would be afraid of rejection?"

Yang's mouth drops open, "What? That happened. Are you sure?"

The man shrugs, "Don't take my word for it. It's not a for sure thing, but based on the things he's said—"

Yang takes in a deep breath before sipping from his drink, "Well, now it all makes sense."

* * *

"Hey. I'm glad I found you. We need to talk."

"Okay, good. I have something to say too." Yong sees the concern in his brother's expression, "What's going on?"

"We need to talk."

"You said that." Yong shakes his head, "Why are you acting like this? You're so restless."

The elder brother sees the younger maid dusting a painting, "In my study. Now."

"Alright," Yong replies in confusion, and he follows his brother as the tense silence separates them. They walk through the sitting room and Yong notices his mother's concerned curiosity, before they enter the study. "Why are you acting so weird?"

"Don't tell me how to behave." He sits down and instructs his youngest brother to do the same, "Tell me. What happened last night when you were on watch with Liu Xun?"

Yong shakes his head in boredom and shrugs, "Nothing. We didn't see anything. We just talked."

"Is that what you call it?"

Yong sees his brother is tense but doesn't really understand why, "Well, we did talk." He lets out a huge breath before proving it, "He made fun of my hair, we said what we wanted out of life, and then he went off to check the perimeter or something."

Li Fu looks over his brother in stress, "Liu Xun talked with me this morning."

Yong almost rolls his eyes as he blows out a breath, "And what did he have to say?"

The brother straightens out the desk, "He told me that you've threatened to kill him— on multiple accounts now." Yong looks over the orderly desk. "He said that your first real threat was the day of the execution and that you made another threat last night."

"You had me guard a gate all night." He tries to smile, "Sorry, if I wanted a little fun."

"You call that fun? Threatening to kill someone is not fun. It's serious." Yong's eyes open more in interest, as his brother becomes hysterical, "And what about the execution? What happened then?"

Yong glances at his brother's hands, which are planted on the desk as he hovers over them both, "He wouldn't hand me the ax and you had already told the audience I was doing the execution, so I told him to hand it to me before I decided he was more trouble than he was worth." He sees concern and confusion on his brother's dimly lit face. "I wasn't being serious. I mean… not really."

The elder brother takes a breath in an attempt to calm down, "What about last night?"

"Like I said, I was bored." His brother sits back down, but a hand is held to his forehead. "And okay, maybe I was a little more honest than I should have been." Li Fu puts his hand down but doesn't speak, as he finds himself actually disappointed in his brother's honesty. "But does it matter? It's not like I plan to kill anyone. I mean, so long as he doesn't do anything stupid, he should be fine."

The elder brother clasps his hands together, "Putting my concerns for your sanity aside." Yong gives him a bored expression with piercing eyes. "What do you mean by stupid?"

"That's easy." Yong sits up straighter and smiles, "Don't cross me, and stay out of my way."

Li Fu takes an anxious breath, "Maybe we should talk about this later."

Yong smirks, "If you say so." and stands. "By the way, the seamstress's son is coming over tomorrow for a sparring lesson."

"No!" Li Fu takes a calming breath, "I don't want you around weapons right now."

"Come on. That's not fair." He watches as his brother readjusts the pile of papers, "I'm the general's replacement. You have me guarding the house. How is your command even logical?"

"It's not." Li Fu looks up at his brother, "But you have enough training. You even beat Shang." He puts his head in his hand, "I just think we'd all be better off if you did something else right now."

"You mean you think that less people would get hurt," Yong corrects. His brother doesn't disagree. "It's just a sparring lesson. What could happen?"

The elder brother pauses as he lifts up his head, "Fine. You can give this seamstress's son a sparring lesson, but I feel the need to remind you how much damage you did to Shang and he's a general. If you do this, you can't be careless."

"Don't worry. I won't be."

"Okay, then." He readjusts the pile of papers again, "In that case, Liu Xun will be there to make sure no one gets hurt." He can't tell if Yong's expression is of annoyance or disbelief. "If he's not there, then I won't let it happen." Li Fu watches his brother kick the floor, "What time will it be?"

"He said he'd come in the afternoon, so he could rest from his walk. The actual sparring would take place in the evening, and he may or may not decide to stay the night."

The elder brother nods, "If he stays over, would it be in a guestroom?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

Li Fu shrugs, "I wasn't sure if he was a friend of yours or something."

Yong glowers at him, "No. He's not a friend." His brother doesn't speak. "Do we happen to have any drinks around here? I'd rather not go back to the bar tonight."

The brother smiles, "Sorry, but you know we don't keep that stuff around here."

"Right." Yong laughs in stress, "Remind me. Why is that again?"

"You know why."

A giant smile appears on Yong's face, "But I don't have a problem."

"Sure, you don't." Li Fu sees his brother's smile disappear, as it's replaced with annoyance, "Look. Everyone here understands that you have a problem. Now, we can't stop you from going anywhere, but we're not going to enable this self-destructive habit of yours by keeping anything here."

Yong huffs, "Whatever." before exiting the study, but it's not long before his mother speaks.

"What did your brother have to talk to you about?"

Yong shrugs, "Nothing really. He just thinks I'm being careless."

"Hmm." He starts out of the room, but then she asks, "Is that all?"

He turns around, "My brother may also think I have a problem, a drinking problem."

"Which you do."

Yong shakes his head, but his mother's and sister's sewing reminds him of his own, "I'm going to my room."

"What do you plan to do in there?"

Yong takes a deep breath, before he almost yells in frustration, "None of your business."

His mother shakes her head, "Sorry. I didn't realize taking an interest in my son's life was such a bad thing to do."

Yong stays quiet as he leaves, but when he does Li questions, "What do you think he's doing in there, Mother?"

Li Ya pauses as she stares down at the material, and in the end she can only say, "You will understand when you're older."

"Understand what?"

The mother shakes her head, "Ask your husband after you marry. Until then, just stay quiet and continue your work." Li stays silent, as her mother had commanded, but the sewing has become so routine that she can't help but think of anything and everything else.

* * *

\- Now, class. Tell me, what have you learned? Yes. That's right. Assumptions are never good, but because we think we know what's going on based on our own experience or research, we will not be able to help but have said assumptions... No, but seriously. I once had this teacher who liked the phrase "To assume makes an ass out of you and me, because "ass", "u", "me" = "assume". Get it? It was the most annoying thing ever. What were we supposed to do? Just sit idly by and never do anything or think for ourselves? If we do cardio for gym every Friday, I would assume it would be like that unless stated otherwise. Same goes with literally anything else. At the time she was my homeroom teacher, the gym teacher, and she also had a couple other classes that involved health or work experience. I get told all the time that I haven't been accepted to a job yet because I was never taught to, but we had an entire required class about it. It was the most useless thing ever. "Just be creative" she said, as if I'm not. Apparently, if it's you're first job then you turn in your own resume along with that application they give you, but it's hard to fill out a stupid application when you have no references from past employers because you have no past work experience and therefor you cannot list were you previously worked and what you did there. Every single time I have filled out an application I would have to leave half of it blank, because even if my mom says it's okay to list family friends or teachers, I knew that would have been completely inappropriate (not that I haven't ever tried it). Besides, when they say they want a reference, they're talking about a past employer and not someone who's completely biased towards you... Sorry. Just had to vent there. I'm a year or so out of high school, currently working on my college entry portfolio, and I will be so relieved when I can finally get my first job, because once you have your first one I guarantee it will be easier to get your next one.


	51. Mama's Little Girl

**July 7** **th** **(Day 12, Dawn)**

"Hey. It's time to wake up." Ping weakly rolls over to return to sleep, but the dragon pulls the sheets from the bed, "Come on, now. If you want to continue this performance of yours, then you're going to have to wake up and make breakfast."

Ping opens his eyes to see the dragon right in front of him, "I'm tired."

"You always are, but you can't let a little thing like that stop you."

Ping sits up and shakes his head at the training-robe, "Grandmother was right. Sleeping with it on isn't nearly as satisfying as actually wearing it."

Mushu tries to hide his concern, "Come on, now. I picked out an outfit for you. All you have to do is put it on."

"Right. That's all I have to do." Ping puts a hand to his head, as he notices the green and blue attire, "I'm getting really sick of wearing dresses."

Mushu shrugs, "Well, you don't have to wear it. You could just leave as you are."

Ping shakes his head, "No. I have to." He grabs the dress and slowly walks to the mirror, but it takes a moment for him to realize it's of no use, "Why's the mirror covered?"

"I thought you'd be happier without it."

"Mushu—"

"No need to thank me," he interrupts, but a frown remains on Ping's face. "Hey. You don't need that old thing." He grins, "You have me."

"Right. I have you." Ping sits on the edge of the bed as he looks through the pieces of fabric, "Then why do I feel so alone?"

"Hey. You're not alone." He leans onto Ping's knee, "You have me, you have your grandmother, and then, of course, there's always pretty boy."

He tries to smile, "And I'm happy to have you, all of you. It's just— I feel like I have no one. I feel like I have no support and that no one even bothers to listen to me."

Mushu hesitates, "I suspect this has more to do with your parents."

Ping shakes his head in frustration, "Mother knows. I know she knows, but she's so stubborn and persistent. I can't believe she's actually letting me do this to myself."

"Doing what to yourself?"

"Just this," Ping gestures to the dress pieces. "It's pretty clear I'm not happy, isn't it? I mean, I'm not just imagining this, right? She really doesn't care how I feel, does she."

Mushu stands back up, "Your mother is trying. It may seem like she isn't, but you need to realize how hard this must be for her. To her, you will always be her little girl." He sees a tear fall to Ping's face and tries to hug his arm in support, but he's only flung to the other end of the bed in protest. "Look. I know it's not what you want to hear, but that's probably why she doesn't seem to care. She just doesn't want anything to happen to her little girl."

"Except I'm not." Ping looks away from Mushu's concern and notices the dress lain out on the bed. "Never mind. Just turn around, so I can change."

Mushu does as he's instructed but can't help but feel he's done something wrong, "You know we care about you, right— all of us— and that nothing means more to me that your happiness?"

There's a pause, "I know."

Mushu stays quiet for a second, "So, what are you doing today?"

"Just the same things as every day." He finishes putting on the dress, "After you do my hair I have to bring in water from the well and make breakfast. After that it's feeding the chickens and working the fields. At some point Shang will join, and then later on I have dinner with him outside."

"This breakfast you're making, are you eating it?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you need to look after yourself better." He doesn't reply. "Please, tell me, you're at least going to eat dinner with Shang."

Ping takes a deep breath as he grabs the brush, "I'm fine. Trust me."

"You know I worry about you."

"I know." Ping throws the balls of hair into the fire, "Could you do my hair again?"

"Yeah, sure."

Ping ignores the dragon's excitement, "Thanks."

"No problem. I'm happy to help."

Ping weakly laughs, "Yeah. I can tell."

"Now, what's that supposed to mean?"

He hears the agitation in Mushu's voice, "Nothing. It means nothing." Ping almost shakes his head but doesn't, as he remembers that it's being put up. "You just act more like a girl than I do."

"Well, what do you expect? Dragons are very emotional creatures."

"Yeah, and do all dragons like to do people's hair?"

Mushu finishes, "I wouldn't know. I've never met another dragon before."

Ping almost laughs but is too tired to, "If you've never met another dragon before, then how do you know dragons are emotional?"

"Come on, now," Mushu commands. "Now's not the time for stupid questions. Go out there and be the best soldier— I mean, bride— you can be."

"Right." _I almost forgot._ Ping stands and turns, "What do you think? Do I look like Mama's little girl?"

Mushu smiles in hesitance, "Ah-um. Is that a trick question?" Ping stands still and gives the dragon a serious look. "Yes. Perfect. You would've made a great actress."

"A what?"

Mushu waves his hands, "Never mind. You'll be great."

"Right." Ping takes a deep breath and tries to smile, "All I have to do is be the perfect daughter." He shakes his head, "Mother will never believe I'm good enough."

"Come on. You're doing great." Ping nearly collapses, but he manages to catch himself on a knee and uses it to stand back up. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Ping puts a hand to his head, "But admit it, I'm not great. I'm terrible. Mother doesn't even believe I'm trying."

"This is just a suggestion." Ping gives him a look. "But maybe you should have breakfast with them. You know, to prove that you can properly pour tea and serve a meal."

"Yeah, right." Ping takes a calming breath, "I know they're my family, but I really don't want to talk to anyone right now." He looks down for a moment, only to wrap his arms over his chest in embarrassment. "And I definitely don't want anyone to see me like this." He shakes his head, "I have to make breakfast." and leaves the room before the dragon can speak.

* * *

\- Okay. So, I don't know how to describe this any better than I did in the fic, but because even I got confused when I first read it, I'm going to try. The part where he nearly falls and catches himself on a knee, both of his feet still remain on the ground... Have you ever done lunges? Yeah, sorry. Unless you're obsessed with health, are a body builder, are a personal trainer, or have an eating disorder, you may not even know what this is. I didn't even know what it was until a few months ago when I got that 30 day challenge exercise app on my phone... Never mind that. I'm just letting you know that if you don't know what it is then look it up, because I'm going to use it as an example. Okay? Okay. So, when he fell he caught himself as he was in some kind of lunge position, except that the legs would have been closer together. He had placed his hands on his knee to prevent himself from falling, and then he pushed down on that knee to help himself back up. Yeah, it's complicated and everything, but that's how I've always caught myself when I would fall; therefor, it's only natural I would imagine the characters catching themselves in the same way. Sorry if this has been too confusing. I tried.


	52. Stories

**July 7** **th** **(Day 12, Evening)**

"Ready for your lesson?"

Ruli finishes off the cup of water, "As ready as I'll ever be."

Yong notices his hesitation to stand, "Is there something wrong?"

"Uh, nothing." He stands, "It's just that your brother told me to be careful."

"Careful?"

Ruli hesitates, "He said that you really get into your lessons, that you spar as if it's real."

Yong takes a breath and motions a hand down his hair, but only afterwards does he realize it's been put up, "If it makes you feel better, we don't have to use anything sharp."

"That's comforting to know." He looks over the general's brother in restlessness, "Where will the training take place."

Yong looks back-and-forth between the two doorways, knowing that his brother will probably be in his office, his mother will probably be in the sitting room, and that Liu Xun may still be in his own room. _That covers each wing. Damn it._ "How about we leave out the kitchen and I'll show you."

"Okay." Ruli follows Yong out the kitchen, past the trench, and back towards the stable, "So, what's going on? Are we sparring outside?"

Yong laughs, "We have an entire building dedicated to training. I don't think we'll be outside."

He shakes his head in confusion, "If there's a building, then where is it? I mean, it's not like you're having us walk all the way around this ginormous house of yours just to get there." Yong gives him a look, which makes his doubt disappear. "Wait. Is that what you're doing?" There's no reply. "But why? There must be a shorter path."

"I didn't feel like getting a lecture, and honestly we don't have the time." They pass the stable and continue the path until the training building is seen, "Here it is."

The seamstress's son halts in shock and awe, "You're training area's bigger than my house."

Yong shrugs, "We come from a long line of generals. What were you expecting?"

He shakes his head as they walk closer, "I don't know. A large yard with a target range, maybe a storage shed for weapons."

Yong smirks, "Not exactly what you expected, is it?"

"No. Not at all."

Yong inwardly laughs at Ruli's amazement, but when they enter the building he frowns at the sight of the guard, "Come on. I thought I ditched you."

Liu Xun stands tall and straight, "Your brother told me to watch this place as soon as that kid left his sight."

"Right."

Yong shakes his head as the kid with black hair and light-brown eyes walks up behind him, "What's going on?"

"My brother doesn't trust me." He turns around, "But what else is new?"

"Well. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." He gives the guard a glare of annoyance, "I just don't understand why people like to ruin my fun."

Liu Xun keeps a blank expression, but he can't help but gulp down his fear, "Hey. I don't like being here any more than you want me to be, but apparently you told your brother that threatening to kill people is just something you do for fun." Yong notices the seamstress's son take a few steps back. "He said that I shouldn't be worried and that someone had to watch you."

Yong looks over the situation in frustration, as his sparring partner is deathly silent, "Could you stop scaring our guest?"

"I don't have to. You do that well enough yourself."

Yong shakes his head, "You're unbelievable."

"I'm unbelievable?" The guard laughs, "You're the one getting drunk nearly every night, threatening to kill people, and walking the streets to defile girls in the dark."

Yong takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm down, as several ways to kill the stupid man has just entered his mind. _He's lucky my thoughts are faster than my actions._ He shakes his head and notice's the seamstress's son standing still with fear, "I'd understand if you would rather leave."

Ruli shakes his head and stutters, "No. This is a great opportunity. I shouldn't waste it."

The general's brother smirks, "Great." before he goes to obtain two bamboo staffs. He flings one over to Ruli, but he only crosses his arms to deflect the training device. Yong hesitates as he gives a look of interest and concern, "Do you need a second?"

"No. I'm fine." He picks up the weapon, "Come on. Let's fight."

Yong hears the shaky voice as the staff continues to wobble, "I think you need a minute." He turns away from the newbie and gives the guard a smile, "How about you?"

"You're crazy if you think I'm letting you anywhere near me."

Yong shakes his head, "It'd just be a demonstration, maybe even slow and simple."

The guard laughs, "Right. I bet you tell all your victims that."

"No. I don't." Yong takes an unsteady breath, before he ignores the guard's smirk and looks toward the seventeen-year-old, "What about you? Are you ready?"

Ruli nods, so Yong walks up towards him, but as Yong's about to strike the shaking staff Ruli cries, "Wait. Don't kill me."

"Damn it." The general's brother takes a few steps back, "I'm not going to kill you." and watches as tears run down Ruli's face and he sniffles. The guest apparently doesn't believe him, though, as more pleading and cries loudly eco in the room. Yong looks from the guard to the door, before he whispers loudly in frustration, "Would you shut up already?" but the man continues to cry. Yong takes another breath of annoyance, "Stop acting like such a baby."

"What's going on in here?"

Yong looks at his brother in boredom, "Why don't you ask your guard? He decided to make up a bunch of wild stories about me, and now the guy I'm supposed to train is deathly afraid of me."

Ruli stops crying, "Wait. They were just stories?"

Yong smiles in stress as he turns to him, "Yes. They were just stories." He gives Liu Xun a look, "Weren't they."

The guard looks from his concerned superior to the glaring killer, "Yeah. They were just stories. Not true at all."

Yong notices his brother's suspicion as Ruli comments, "Well, in that case, maybe we could have that lesson?"

Yong huffs, "Yeah, right." He gives one last look at the seamstress's son. "I've had enough of this. You can spar with Liu Xun." He stomps across the room and pushes past his brother, "I'm going to the bar." before he exits the building.

* * *

\- Yeah. You know it's bad when the person you're supposed to train is afraid of you. Intimidation is both a blessing and a curse.

\- By the way, like I said in the first chapter I posted tonight, I don't know if you were able to read the prior 9 chapters, so reviewing would be a very good way to let me know people both can and are reading these. Thank you.


	53. Eyes and Ears

**July 7** **th** **(Day 12, Night)**

When Yong walks into the rundown bar people stare, but soon after they turn away and only whispers remain. He ignores the glances as he walks to the gambling area, "Mind if I join?"

The two men whisper into each other's ears, until the man with dark-brown hair and eyes retorts, "Or you could just go get yourself drunk and leave us alone."

Yong looks at the bar only for a second, "Even if I wanted to, I can't. I don't have enough."

The black-haired man responds, "If you honestly expect us to believe that the magistrate's brother is broke, then you're dreaming."

Yong takes a deep breath, "Look. He doesn't trust me with money. I have to pay my own way."

The men laugh, "He doesn't trust you with money. You're the best gambler around."

Yong looks between the table and the bar, but it only takes him a moment to realize that if he had money he wouldn't be gambling in the first place, "May I just join, please?"

The guys give each other a look as they question the situation, but it doesn't take long for the dark-brown haired man to reply in defeat, "Fine. Take a seat."

Yong puts in a couple coins, but after many wins and very few losses he ends up with a few dozen. He smirks as he wins the next one as well, but the other guys glare at him, "Okay. It's time for you to go."

"What? Why?"

"Never mind. Just leave before you get yourself into trouble."

Yong looks at the brown-haired man in confusion, "Trouble? But I didn't do anything."

"Sure, you didn't."

The other man scoffs, "Cheater."

Yong almost laughs, "Wait. You think I cheated?" They don't respond. "Don't you think if I cheated, then I would have won every game?"

"Not if you're smart, which we can only assume you are."

"Exactly. I am." Yong responds in frustration, "And that's why I won. I didn't cheat." He shakes his head, "This is more than a game of chance. You need a strategy, and I had one."

The guy with black hair shakes his head, "The amount of times you win is inhuman." He looks over to the other man, "What do you think? You think if we shook him down, then we'd find extra tiles in his sleeves?"

The man nods, "Probably." and they stand with smirks upon their faces.

Yong stands up to back away, "Hey. I'm not looking for trouble."

"Too bad. You found it." Yong takes more steps back, but soon the men have a hold on him. He looks at each of the guys, who clearly think they have him beat, before he knees one in an unhappy place and shoves the other one back. He picks up the first man and tosses him over to the second, so they both crash to the floor. The men try to stand as fast as they can, but by the time they do Yong has already pinned them against the wall with a knife to each of their throats. The black-haired man gulps, "Where did you get those?"

Yong smirks, "I guess I had a couple tricks up my sleeves after all." The men stay quiet. "So. What's your names?"

"Huang Kang."

Yong looks over at the brown-haired man, "And you?"

He stutters, "Zhau Song."

Yong huffs, "Not so powerful now, are you?" The man doesn't reply, so he looks between the two. "If you try anything like this again, then you may not be left in one piece. Got it?" They nod anxiously, so he lets them go and watches as they scurry out the door.

Afterwards, however, his smile falls, as what's left behind is a room full of stares. He looks down at the knives, one in each hand, before he puts them away and walks over to the bartender, "Is it possible to just buy a bottle and leave? I really don't need any more attention today."

"Sure." The man shakes off the tension of the situation and sets a ceramic bottle on the table, "That will be one tael."

Yong laughs, "You're kidding, right?" The man doesn't respond. "Come on. That's twice as much as the equivalent in cups."

The bartender shrugs, "Hey. As far as I'm concerned, you're paying for both the baijiu and the packaging it's in. But, you know, if you'd rather stay…"

Yong turns around for a second and sees multiple eyes on him, "Fine. Okay. I'll leave." He shakes his head, "But I don't have any silver pieces with me."

The man smiles, "That's alright. Most people don't. Just pay the same amount in zhu and you're all set."

Yong digs through his bag to find the twenty-four copper coins and hands them to the bartender, "Here." before he takes the bottle and starts out of the establishment.

The bartender shouts, "Nice doing business with you." as he leaves, but Yong can only stay quiet as he finds his horse and returns home.

* * *

"You're back."

Yong turns from his room to see his brother's surprise, "Yeah, well, there were a lot of people."

His brother nods and sees the bottle in his hand, "Is that what I think it is?"

Yong laughs at his stupidity, as he realizes it shouldn't have been taken out of his bag so soon, "What do you think it is?" The brother doesn't respond. "What's the problem? It's just one bottle."

"Are you even hearing yourself?" Yong stays quiet as he judges the bottle to be more or less the same amount he usually drinks. "You need to admit it. You have a problem."

Yong smiles a glare, "I'm the one with a problem?" He laughs, "What about you? You feel the need to control everything, keeping things perfect and neat." His brother stays quiet in thought. "But the reality is nothing is perfect. Nothing is neat or clean, and you need to learn to deal with it."

"That's enough," the elder brother commands with nonchalance. "You're only bringing up my problems to distract you from your own." He's given a look of disbelief. "How about you hand me the bottle and we can talk in my study?"

"No."

"You'll get it back right afterwards. I promise."

"Forget about it," Yong yells. "I don't have a problem. I'm fine."

"You're not fine." The elder brother takes a deep breath, "I don't care that you're drinking. I just want to know why." He shakes his head, "You're only this bad when there's something wrong."

"Wow. I wonder what that could be." His brother's silent. "Because aside from my friend being murdered, which you were very sympathetic for by the way, my reputation has been a mess, and your guard didn't exactly help things today."

Li Fu hesitates, "If there's something wrong, if there's anything I can do—"

"No." Yong attempts a calming breath, "It's done. You can't fix it, so just forget about it. Forget about all of it." He shakes his head before he turns around and finally enters his room, before he lies down on his bed, opens the bottle of baijiu, and drinks from it.

* * *

\- Yeah. If you haven't noticed yet, the eldest brother is a little OCD.


	54. Concern of Assumptions

**July 8** **th** **(Day 13, Late Morning)**

Li Ya sits in the teashop as she's poured a cup of steamy liquid, and she revels in its soothing smell as she asks, "How have you been?"

The seamstress takes a sip from her own tea, "Fine. Actually, I'm great." She smiles, "Thanks for paying. A good cup of tea is just what I needed."

"No problem."

The woman nods and takes another sip to buy time, "Your son came over again a few days ago."

Li Ya smiles, "I suppose he used that same excuse again?"

The seamstress nods, "He said you wanted some fabric. When I asked for specifics he didn't even bother to name a color this time."

"Wow." She laughs, "If his lies didn't disappoint me enough before, they certainly do now."

"I think he may have been a little distracted."

Li Ya sees the seamstress's contemplation, "What is it, Xu Shun?"

The woman hesitates, "Well, Ruli asked if he could get a sparring lesson. When your son said no Mei pleaded him to, and… well… your son got a little close to her." She shakes her head, "He said we had nothing to worry about, but I can't help but think otherwise." She sees her friend's attentiveness, "I don't mean you or your family any disrespect. I just find it odd that he even buys from me."

Li Ya nods, "It is odd." as she sips from her tea. "If he's only using the fabric for personal use, which what else would a young man use it for, then why buy something so nice and costly?"

"You understand why I'm concerned."

Li Ya nods, "I'll talk to him, confront him about it."

"Thank you."

She smiles, "Don't worry about it, Shun. It's the least I could do."

* * *

"Yong. Yong? Are you awake?"

Yong' s eyes peep open at the sound of his sister's voice, "Li?" He sees the thirteen-year-old in front of his bed, "What are you doing in here?"

"Mother went for some tea. I got bored, so I wanted to see if you'd like to talk."

Yong sees the nearly empty bottle lying beside him, which causes him to open his eyes wide, but he still manages to continue the conversation, "But there's tea here. Why'd she leave?"

"She was meeting someone."

Yong fights not to finish off the baijiu in front of his sister, as his head throbs, and he sets the bottle down to the side of the bed, "Do you know who?"

"No. She wouldn't say." Li misses her brother's contemplation, as she looks over her hair instead, "Can you braid my hair?"

Yong doesn't move as his eyes tiredly droop, "I thought you figured out how to do that yourself."

"I want one braid, not two, and when I try it messes up."

"Okay," Yong yawns. "I have to use the washroom, but grab a ribbon and meet me in the dining room. I'll do your hair there."

"Thank you," his sister pipes with excitement.

Yong places a hand to his head, as the loud pitch makes his headache worse, "Yeah, yeah. Just go, before I change my mind."

Li frowns, "Okay." before she leaves.

After Yong is done washing up he puts on an outfit of black and red, before he goes to the dining room. His sister can't hold her excitement and stands to run over and hand the bright green piece of silk to him, "Can you do it now?"

Yong shakes his head but can't help a smile, "Don't let Mother see you behave this way."

Li innocently rocks back-and-forth, "Don't worry. I won't."

"Good." He sits down in his usual seat, "Come over here."

His sister sits in the seat in front of him as a maid with light-brown hair enters the room, and he comments, "Could I get some eggs?"

Li pleads, "And dumplings?" The servant nods. "Thank you, Du Huan."

The servant awkwardly smiles, "Ah, you're welcome." before she turns to exit the room.

Yong tries to keep his sister still as he swipes her long, dark-brown hair down her back, "Don't embarrass the help. Let them do their work."

"I'm sorry." Yong starts the braid. "I just thought it'd be nice."

Yong takes an anxious breath instead of laughing as he had intended, "Well, if I were her I'd just find it distracting, and I'd probably be paranoid the entire day because of how often it doesn't happen." He pauses for a moment to do the next step properly. "If you said that to me while I worked here, then I'd probably expect being fired or getting sent elsewhere."

"Oh."

Li stays quiet as Yong continues, and after a minute their elder brother walks in, "I heard you were here." Yong glances up for a second but doesn't speak. "What are you doing?"

Yong hears his brother's confusion, "I'm braiding my sister's hair. Is that okay?"

"Yeah. That's fine." Li Fu walks over and observes the neatness of the complicated braid, "Is there a reason why you're so good at this?"

"Remember. I had a couple female friends when I was younger."

The elder brother pauses, "What happened to them?"

Yong's quiet, as he remembers there was no last conversation. _I thought we'd talk again, but all of a sudden I couldn't._ "Their father didn't trust me alone with them." He silences as he distracts himself with the braid. "I'm not even allowed to talk to them now."

Li Fu takes a solemn breath, "I'm sorry to hear that."

Yong finishes the staircase braid, "It doesn't matter." and ties the small strip of silk into a bow at the end. "Who wants to be at their teacher's house all the time anyway?"

The elder brother tries to think of something to say, but he isn't able to come up with anything, as their mother pretends to cough, "May I speak with Yong, please."

Yong motions his head towards the doorway, "Go. We'll let you know when the food comes."

After the little sister leaves Li Ya looks at her eldest son, "I was hoping to speak to him alone."

The elder brother doesn't move, "I'm the head of this house. Anything you need to say to my brother, you can say to me."

The mother looks between the two sons briefly, before she addresses the youngest, "I know you've been visiting Xu Shun, the seamstress." She sees her son about to lie, "We've talked."

Yong shuts his mouth for a second, "Maybe I have. Maybe I haven't. What's your point?"

Li Ya tries to ignore the extra person in the room but finds it difficult, "She thinks you're going there for more than just fabric."

Yong scrunches up his eyebrows, "All she sells is fabric. What else would I be going for?"

Li Ya hesitates, "The seamstress thinks that you only buy fabric from her so that you can get closer to her daughters."

Yong laughs, "Mother, that's ridiculous. Why would I do that?" His mother only shows concern as he remembers the excuse, "Mei looks almost exactly like Li. I wouldn't touch her."

Li Ya shakes her head, "I wish I could believe you, but appearance doesn't matter. There are some places where everyone looks similar, so you need to give me a better story than that."

Yong takes a deep breath as he shakes his head, "I have a confession to make." He sees his brother's concern, before he notices his mother's fear. There's no way he could confess this to them, especially to his mother, not after how proud she was of Shang for not liking guys. No. He would just have to deal with the assumption that he'd like to be with a girl, and if that meant people would also assume he'd find a way to do that, then so be it. He shrugs off his confession, before he smiles a partial lie, "There's this guy I know at the bar. He likes to sew, but he's afraid people will make fun of him for it. That's why I visit the seamstress. I'm just there to get supplies for him."

Yong tries to continue his smile but finds it hard, as he's not sure if it's shock or disbelief on his mother's face. "You're not getting the supplies for yourself?"

Yong laughs, "What could I possibly need fabric for?"

Li Ya replies, "Nothing." as she locks her prior assumptions in a vault.

Yong sees his brother's look as the servant brings out the eggs and dumplings, but Yong can only concentrate on his mother's continuous concern, "Don't worry. Nothing's going to happen."

"So, you're not going to the seamstress to see Mei and Hui?"

Yong pretends to smile, "Well, it doesn't hurt to see a couple pretty girls every once in a while, but it's not like I'm going to do anything." He looks over at his brother, "I'll be married soon, right?"

"Yeah," Li Fu answers in confusion.

Yong smiles, "See." and shrugs. "It's fine. I'll be married soon. I think I can wait."

"Well. Okay, then," Li Ya concludes.

He feels the tense quiet, "Could you tell Li that the food's here?"

Yong sits down in front of his eggs as his mother leaves and his brother asks, "So. Would you like to know who I plan your bride to be?"

Yong takes the first bite, "Not really."

Li Fu comments, "You'll be married this summer."

"Good to know." He takes another bite, "Is that all?"

The elder brother hesitates, as several questions enter his mind and he wonders which to ask, but his little sister and mother enter the room before he can, "I guess so."

* * *

\- Yeah. His mother didn't exactly make it easy for him to confess, did she?... I suppose he could have just confessed to sewing himself, but in such a traditional and structured society like that, it may not have been much better.


	55. Everything

**July 8** **th** **(Day 13, Afternoon)**

Fa Sheng sees his wife leaning on the temple's railing, but as he moves closer he stands still with hesitance and is unable to speak. Fa Lei continues to stare out at the shining sky, but she senses him behind her and speculates, "You never wanted to be a magistrate, did you?"

Sheng shrugs, "It wasn't satisfying, but it was okay. It was better than most things."

"You mean, it was better than most acceptable things." He doesn't respond, and she's quiet for a moment as the now clear events cross her mind, "You know, it makes sense now."

"What makes sense?"

The wife turns and watches as her husband takes a step closer, "Everything."

"Everything?" asks the husband in confusion as sad memories play over in his mind.

"Everything," repeats the wife with self-hatred of her apparent stupidity. "I don't know if I missed it because of how you hid in your office or just for our lack of communication in general, but now that we've spoken—" She takes a stressed breath and notices her husband's thoughtful concern. "Everything is just a lot clearer now: how you did my duties, how you refused to work the farm, and how you never talked about your work. It all makes sense now."

Fa Sheng opens his mouth, but his words delay, "I never meant to hurt you." He tries to smile, but concern covers it, "I liked you. I just wanted you to love me too." He pauses, "But I guess I failed."

"No. You didn't fail. There was just a lack of communication." She tries to reach for his hands, but they're intangible, as he doesn't let her. "I loved you too. I just didn't think you liked me."

Sheng takes a few sad, deep breaths, "No. You hated me. You could never have loved me."

"I didn't hate you." She sees tears fill her husband's eyes, "It just hurt. I behaved the way I did, because I didn't feel wanted and I'd rather yell than fall apart."

He tugs at his long beard as a few droplets fall, "I was such a horrible husband."

Fa Lei takes a long, shallow breath, "Things could have been better, but I realize now that they were right. None of this was your fault." She turns her head away for a second, "I just wish things could have been different."

"You mean, you wish I had been different." He sees her about to speak as she quickly turns her head back around, but he doesn't let her. "I've thought about it too; what would have happened if I had left you to do your duties and me with mine, but cooking was the only thing I truly enjoyed." He almost laughs as he shakes his head, "Being a magistrate was interesting work, but it wasn't as satisfying."

His wife peeks around to see some stares and whispers, "You don't have Mulan's problem, do you? I don't want to worry, but they do seem to be similar."

Sheng cracks a smile, "I don't think so." He glances down the hill and past the river to the house behind the stone wall, "From the information we've gathered, it appears that she has a general dislike of her being." He sees his wife is still tense, "The only thing I dislike about myself is the beard, but I don't think that really counts."

Fa Lei relaxes and takes a breath of relief, but then she notices her husband tug at his beard again, "If you don't like it, then why do you have it?"

Sheng moves his eyes away from his wife, "I thought you wanted me to be manlier." He holds onto the temple's fencing. "Growing a beard seemed like less effort compared to farming without a purpose, but it was always in the way and I still remember how itchy it was." He looks over his shoulder, "Of course, now I know all you wanted was to be wanted." but then turns his head back to the shining sky. "I guess, even though I did like you, I didn't make it clear. I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't have changed your appearance for me."

The husband recalls the anger in her tone, but he knows now it's just her attempt not to fall apart. He turns around, "It will be okay." and moves in for a hug. "Everything will be okay."

He feels tears fall to his shoulder, as her voice is worn out and unsteady, "I can't believe you changed your looks for me, when it's clearly not something you're comfortable with." They separate. "Why? Just tell me why."

It takes him a moment to respond, "I thought you were worth it. We were married. I wanted us to be able to like each other." He tries to prevent his own tears as his wife's slide down her cheek. "The problem is that was life, and now we're dead. Ghosts appear as they did when they died, so even though we've resolved this now…"

Fa Lei sees her husband turn away as a tear falls from his eyes, "You can't change it now." He doesn't speak, as he remembers the catch in your throat when you cry, and so he's unable to speak as he relives the memory. "I'm sorry. I can't even imagine—"

"It's awful." He swallows as more tears fall, "I know it's not important, but it just feels wrong for it to be there. I don't even remember it really, and it often surprises me." He shakes his head, "I just keep thinking about the smooth skin or fine prickles I used to have, but now there's this thing on my face and it's not going to go away. Nothing can change that now."

Fa Lei gives a look of concern and keeps her voice lower, as people begin to stare. "Does it really bother you that much?"

Sheng shakes his head, "I try not to think about it." He watches the golden sun hide behind the transparent cloud. "It's not important and it's more annoying than anything, but yeah, sometimes it does bother me." He sees his wife's serious concern, "It's really not that big of a deal. It's not and I don't want to worry you, but yes, I do wish things could be different."

His wife pauses in thought, "Mulan wants things to be different."

Fa Sheng takes a deep breath in frustration, "I don't have Mulan's problem. You don't need to worry about that." He sees her confusion mixed with slight doubt, as he remembers the long time she had spent watching the sky in thought. _Is that what she assumed this whole time?_ "I don't have her problem. I'm fine with being who I am." He glances back at a few ghosts but turns his head away at the sight of the head ancestor, "I just wish I could behave the way I wanted to without people calling me unreasonable or saying that I'm acting like a girl."

Fa Lei pauses in puzzlement but takes a breath as she comments, "I'm not sure what's going on. I'm having a hard time understanding any of this." She looks up into her husband's reserved, sad eyes. "But I can tell you're not happy. You're not happy here."

Sheng almost laughs, "Is anyone?" as he glances around the room.

Fa Lei follows her husband's eyes around the room of discontent spirits, "No. No one's happy here." Her husband turns back to her. "But we all have to move on at some point." She hesitates, "Perhaps you would feel better if you moved on. Maybe things will be better for you in the next life."

"If there is one." He shakes his head, "That mathematician really got to me. What if there is no life after this? Our spirits are all we have left from life. What if moving on is just disappearing?"

Fa Lei gives a soft smile, "Would you rather stay here forever, even if that is the case."

Her husband looks around at the other ghosts, "No. I'd rather not be ridiculed forever."

The wife nods, "Moving on is probably the best thing you could do for yourself right now."

He pauses with unsureness and guilt, "What about you?"

"I would go, but I need to know our family line will continue and that our descendants will have a good standing. I won't have peace until I feel the family is secure."

"I can't let you stay alone."

The wife shakes her head, "I won't be. There are many others with similar needs." She pauses and breathes a hearty breath. "I want you to move on. You have to, for your own sake." Fa Lei sees her husband about to object so she continues, "You're not happy here. You need to move on, so you can be."

Fa Sheng takes a deep breath, "Since when has happiness ever mattered?" He doesn't let his wife respond to the rhetorical question. "After everything I've done to you—" He pauses, as he gulps to prevent tears, "I need to be here for you. I need to make things okay with you."

"No. You don't." The wife takes an unsteady breath as her eyes begin to shine, "Things are okay between us, and what I really need you're unable to give." A couple tears escape her eyes. "After all the pain we caused each other, after all the pain I caused you, I want you to be able to move on."

Sheng pauses, "Will you be happier without me here?"

She grabs hold of his hands, "I will be happy to know you are happy."

He nods, "And things really are okay between us?"

Fa Lei takes a shaky breath, "Of course." She sees her husband's thoughtfulness, "What is it?"

"I was just thinking." He pauses, as he wonders if it's really necessary, "In life I wasn't very successful or well-recognized, but now I realize what's worse is being recognized as a bad person." His wife nods. "If I manage to move on, could you make sure people know I'm not as bad as they thought?"

The wife sadly smiles, "Yes, of course." and grips onto his hands tighter. "I just want you to be happy. Hopefully moving on will help you with that."

"Hopefully," replies the husband. "You will be happy one day too."

"Don't be too sure about that. There's many spirits here who have been waiting for many years to see the family succeed. There may be many years left."

"No," Fa Sheng smiles with hope. "Everything will be okay one day, and you will move on."

She shakes her head, "How can you say that when you know Mulan has all those issues?"

He places his hands on her shoulders, "So long as the family communicates and so long as Mulan confides in whomever she marries, everything will be okay. Everything will be just fine."

"I certainly hope so."

Fa Sheng moves in to kiss her forehead, before he closes in an embrace, "You will be okay, and one day you will be able to move on and find your own happiness."

The wife smiles, "You seem so sure."

"I am sure." Fa Lei stays quiet as the comforting hug continues, but the spirit soon disappears and she's left alone. What was only her and her husband a moment ago, has suddenly turned into a temple of her with no one and every ghost who has hated him staring with disdain.

Her mother-in-law moves close in observation, "What happened to him?"

She hesitates, "He moved on."

"Well, that hardly seems fair, him being gone and you being here."

"It's fine. I told him to." She sees Fa Jun's refusal to believe, "I wanted him to be happy."

"Without you?" The daughter-in-law doesn't speak. "Let's be real. Men don't cry— a real man doesn't cry. He was just using you to make himself feel less guilty, so he could feel as if he actually deserved to move on and be happy. When really, even though he needed your permission to move on, he's probably forgotten about you already."

Fa Lei comments, "If real men don't cry, then I guess he wasn't much of one, because I believe he was genuine. I believe that there was miscommunication but that he truly did care about me."

The mother-in-law laughs, "Cared about you? He didn't care about you. He kissed you on the forehead, and you will probably never see him again. What kind of goodbye is that, if he truly did care?"

Fa Lei is silent only for a moment, "We were never that close in life. I wouldn't expect anything different in death." She sees her mother-in-law's discontent. "I actually thought it was a good goodbye."

Fa Jun shakes her head in disapproval, "You were close enough to have six children and three sons with him. Being that close, he should have given you a real kiss goodbye."

The daughter-in-law smiles, "Children don't make a couple closer. I'm sure you understand that better than anyone. I mean, you only had one child, but your husband still seems to be nice to you."

Fa Jun's eyes squint with fury as she nearly yells, "You don't know anything about me, my husband, or our relationship, so stay out of it."

Fa Lei comments with a confused, "Okay. I will." before the mother-in-law leaves her be.

* * *

\- Originally, I had it so the ghosts were pretending to lean onto things, as they can't touch the corporeal world, but then i realized that from a writing standpoint it may have been confusing to the reader. Also, if it's from their perspective, then they're not going to admit everything they do might as well just be pretend.


	56. Daughter

**July 8th (Day 13, Evening)**

Ping slowly stands as he uses a tree to pull himself from the ground. The light headedness makes his mind clear, and although he's tired, he's glad the restless, repetitive thoughts have stopped.

Shang piles three baskets of tea leaves on top of each other, before he stands with them in his arms. He sees Ping leaning on the camellia tree, "Do you need help?"

"Help?" asks Ping, half confused and half paranoid, thinking that the so-called help may be referring to his health, but he laughs in relief when Shang nods to the last basket. "Oh. No. I can handle that." He struggles to pick up the basket of wet leaves with his thin arms, but he manages to keep it from falling as he stands. He comments, out of breath, "We should get this over with."

"Right." Shang effortlessly carries the three baskets out of the field of large tea trees as Ping struggles to keep up.

When they finally make it into the kitchen Ping plops the basket down, and he takes rapid, deep breaths as the general tirelessly lays the three baskets on the floor. "Hey, soldier." Ping looks up to see Shang's concerned smile. "I think you need to work on your strength and agility."

"You think so?" Ping smiles.

"Yes. I do," Shang responds, even though the question had been rhetorical. He sees Ping frown, "If we were still at the training camp, I would probably order you to do three miles."

"It's a good thing she isn't a soldier, then." Shang looks to the dining room entrance and sees Ping's mother. "All of that running would probably kill her."

Ping places a hand over his heart to feel the fast-paced beating, but he can't help but remember how great he once was, "I actually made a good soldier." He sees his mother's skepticism. "And Shang isn't being unreasonable; three miles is nothing in comparison to what war demands."

Fa Li clears the wooden table and puts the baskets on it, one by one, "There's enough here to dry out for days. You should work the other fields until I can store them."

Ping takes an unsteady breath, "Are you just going to ignore me like this?" The mother doesn't speak. "Why don't you ever believe me? I made a good soldier. I saved the emperor, and he even gave me his crest as proof." He sees his mother become still as she clutches the table for support. "How can a man so powerful believe in my abilities, but you won't even acknowledge them? After all that I've achieved, how can you still not believe I was a good soldier? How can you still not believe in me?"

"Because you're my daughter," Fa Li angrily responds, but when she turns around her cheeks appear to be wet. "You're my daughter, not a soldier, and I think it's time for you to understand that." Ping doesn't speak. "Mulan, I don't want you to get hurt."

He huffs, "Yeah. I think it's a little too late for that."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Ping shakes his head, "Nothing. It doesn't matter."

Shang interrupts, "How about we gather some soup and go for that walk?"

Ping almost laughs. _How can someone mention food at a time like this?_ "No." He continues to look at his mother's desperate expression, "I'm tired. I'm going to sleep." He walks past his mother and ignores his father as he passes the dining area on the way to his room.

Ping opens up the wardrobe and pulls out the training-robe and gauze, and he strips off the dress to put on the attire. Mushu comments, "What do you think you're doing?"

Ping untangles the hairstyle Mushu had done earlier and brushes through it, "What does it look like I'm doing?"

The dragon comments with concern, "Well, I know you're not going to sleep." He watches Ping put his hair up with the teal fabric. "You said wearing the gauze to sleep makes you feel horrible in the morning, that it makes you feel like you haven't slept at all."

"Don't forget the physical pain it causes." Ping pulls the sheet from the mirror and smiles before turning around, "Do I look like a daughter now?"

"Um. No?"

"What's wrong," Ping replies as he turns back to the mirror in speculation, but he realizes even his hips aren't noticeable. _And my thighs can't even be seen in this outfit, so what's up?_ "It's my height, isn't it? I'm not tall enough." He stands on his toes in an attempt to add height but falls back to his feet.

"Would you stop doing that? You look fine. Your height is fine."

Ping turns from the mirror, "No, it's not. I feel short."

"Your height is fine." He grumbles, "At least you're not that one guy who's two inches tall."

"You mean, you?" Ping smiles.

Mushu laughs in annoyance, "Heh, heh. I'm two feet, not two inches. Get it right." His hand remains on his side, "And actually, I was talking about that one guy who's half your size."

"Oh, Yao?" Ping shrugs, "He was a little taller than that."

"But not as tall as you," the dragon asserts.

"I guess, not."

"Then your height is fine," Mushu concludes, before Ping can poke a hole in the fact. "You're fine. Don't worry about it."

Ping turns back to the mirror in doubt, "So, I look okay?"

"Of course, you do." Mushu shakes his head, as he watches Ping pinch the slight fat that remains on his hips, although the training-robe could have hidden it if the check had not been made, "Okay. I think you've spent enough time with the mirror this week. How about you cover it up, get something to eat, and go to sleep. You must be exhausted."

"How could I possibly sleep at a time like this?"

"A time like this?" questions Mushu. "It's past sunset."

Ping laughs in frustration, "Do you know what my mother just said?" He continues before the dragon can speak. "She told me she doesn't acknowledge I was a soldier, because I'm her daughter."

"Well. You kind of are," mumbles Mushu.

"Excuse me," Ping nearly shouts as he walks closer to the bed and away from the mirror.

The dragon takes a calming breath, hoping that Ping will do the same, but he doesn't, "Hey, it's not my fault your mother cares about you."

Ping takes a shaky breath, "Cares about me? She doesn't even know me." He turns from the dragon and scours the room to find a bag.

Mushu watches him put the brush in the bag along with a few other necessities, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Why should I pretend to be someone else for a family who clearly doesn't care enough to realize who they're talking to is a lie, a family who's known me my entire life but still doesn't know me well enough to tell when I'm being torn apart?"

Mushu watches in uncertainty as he hesitates, "How are they supposed to know you're being torn apart if you don't tell them anything?"

Ping fiercely turns to the dragon, "Because they're the ones causing it." Mushu doesn't speak. "You know, I'm surprised I've lasted this long. I'm sick of playing dress up. It just makes me crazy."

"So, what's your plan? You going to run away again?"

"I don't see what else I could do." He takes another round about the room to make sure he didn't miss anything. "Mother knows, but she doesn't care, and Father has made his feelings perfectly clear with the women can't be sons comment to Shang."

"This really bothers you, doesn't it?"

"Yes. It does." Ping slows down as he whispers, "Not that I'd ever be brave enough to say so."

Mushu watches as Ping takes the sword from beneath the bed and unravels the emperor's medallion from it, "Look. I know you don't like being a daughter, but you have nowhere else to go, and this is your family. You need to stay here."

Ping places the medallion in his bag and reopens the wardrobe, "No. I need to go." and pauses before throwing the many dress pieces out of it. "I can't pretend to be someone else forever." When the wardrobe is nearly empty he shuts it and turns to find Mushu struggling to get out of the pile of clothes, "Do you know how much it hurts to see them so proud of a daughter that doesn't exist, to hear Father complain about not having a son when I'm right there, and to know that no matter how I try the real me will never be good enough for them? Do you know how much it hurts to know the people you want approval from the most are the same ones that will never accept you as you are?"

Mushu climbs on top of the mound of dresses, "That sounds whatever and all, but you really need to stay here. I need you here. You're not going to be safe going out there on your own."

"What makes you say that?" Ping replies as he comes closer with Shan Yu's sword.

The dragon laughs in nervousness but becomes calmer as he moves to the head of the bed, "Look. I just want you to be safe. If that tiny waist of yours doesn't give you away, then your voice will." He watches Ping sit in the center of the bed, sword's distance away.

"What's wrong with my voice? I passed in the army, didn't I?"

Mushu tries to step farther back but finds himself at the edge, "Nothing, and yes you did, but when you get anxious your voice gets higher."

"So, in other words, all the time."

"That's not what I said." Mushu watches as Ping uses the long, wavy sword to cut the dress pieces, "What are you doing?"

Ping smiles, "Have I ever told you how much I hate dresses?"

"Ah, probably." He watches as Ping continues to annihilate the material, "Look. You shouldn't be doing this. Your parents won't like it." He doesn't stop and actually continues faster, leaving Mushu feeling helpless. "Come on, stop. If you continue like this, then you won't have any clothes left."

He smirks, "Looks like I'll just need a new wardrobe, then."

Mushu shakes his head, "You're parents aren't going to buy men's clothes for you."

"Doesn't matter. I won't be here."

"You're still planning to run away?" He continues to watch the sword slashing, as Ping doesn't respond. "That's ridiculous."

"It's my choice," Ping emphasizes as he turns his head back down to the destruction. "Not that I had much of one in the first place."

The dragon stays quiet as the destruction continues, but he feels uneasy at the use of the sharp sword, "Wouldn't it be easier and safer to do this with scissors?"

Ping laughs, "I'm forbidden from scissors. Remember?"

Mushu grumbles in nervousness, "I don't like this."

"Well, I never asked you to."

There's silence for a moment, but the dragon can't help but ruin the carefree destruction of the dresses, "This is insane. How do you even plan to buy new clothes?" Ping halts for a second as his smile falls. "It's not like you're going to have the money if you run away."

"I'll figure something out."

Mushu watches as the damage slowly continues, "I still don't believe it. You can't leave."

"Why not?"

"Because we're your family. You wouldn't do that to me— You wouldn't do that to us." Ping sees the dragon weep of tears. "You wouldn't do that to family, would you?"

Ping almost says something, but he finds himself unable to think and doesn't speak. _"Because we're family, and you wouldn't do that to family. You wouldn't do that to family, would you?"_

* * *

\- Honestly, I find this chapter oddly satisfying.


	57. Pay Attention

**July 8th (Day 13, Night)**

Shang watches Fa Li exit to the kitchen and whispers, "I hope we didn't harvest too much. Thinking about it now, three baskets may be a lot."

Fa Zhou takes a sip of his tea, "It is a lot to store, but seasons change and we need to be prepared." He smiles, "You did a good job today."

Shang tries to smile back but lacks confidence, "Thank you, sir." and takes another sip of the soup to avoid eye contact.

Fa Zhou observes Shang's uncomfortable stature, "What's bothering you?"

"It's nothing. It doesn't matter." Shang almost laughs, as he realizes those are Ping's words, not his, and by the look given it's clear Ping's father also noticed. "I just wish—" He looks up, "War only changes a person so much."

Ping's father frowns, "I know my daughter is a lot to handle, but I hope you still consider the marriage offer despite her lack of acting the way a proper bride should."

Shang takes a moment before speaking, "I don't have a problem with their behavior."

Fa Zhou takes another sip of the tea, "Then what is the problem?"

Shang looks down, "I just want them to be happy." He looks back up, "They deserve a good, happy life, but I'm not sure they can have that if this marriage happens."

Ping's father finishes the tea, "What do you think would make Mulan happy?"

 _To not be a woman?_ "I don't know how to fix this, but I want them to be okay." He looks back down at the nearly empty bowl, "I need them to survive this."

Fa Zhou looks over the general in concern, "Has my daughter told you something I should know about?"

Shang remembers the concerning things Ping had said, "I'm just worried about them."

"Why? What's wrong with her?"

 _What's wrong with him?_ "I can't say."

Fa Zhou responds sternly to the unsure man, "If there's something wrong, I need to know."

 _I can't betray their trust._ "Why don't you ask them?"

Fa Zhou shakes his head, "She's not going to admit anything to me. I've already tried."

Shang questions, "What did you ask?"

Fa Zhou briefly looks down at the empty tea cup, "I asked her why she didn't want to marry, and she said it didn't matter. She said I should arrange one, because there would be no other option."

"That's all you asked?"

"Well, yes." Fa Zhou looks at Shang with suspicion, "Why? What should I have asked?"

Shang's quiet for a second, "They don't trust you with what's going on, because they're afraid of what you may say and what will happen."

"Don't trust me?" Fa Zhou shakes his head, "We're family. If she has… certain problems, then it needs to be discussed. I'm confident, as a family, we can make it through this."

"Through what?" Shang questions. "What do you think the problem is?"

Fa Zhou contemplates which words to use, "Well, she isn't the only girl in the family to have refused marriage in such an extreme manner."

"Could you elaborate?" Shang asks, but the fiery feeling remains.

It takes a minute for Fa Zhou to respond, "Mulan's cousin seems to have had her own problems, and I'm worried Mulan may have the same issue."

"What issue?"

Fa Zhou looks back at the kitchen, before he turns back to Shang and whispers, "If what I heard is true, then it seems Mulan's cousin wasn't interested in men."

Shang almost laughs, "You think they like girls?" before he remembers Ping's comment on how women are beautiful. He sees Fa Zhou's concern, "They like me. That's not the issue."

Fa Zhou takes a breath, somewhat relived but still unsure, "Okay. But if that's not the problem, then what is? If she's refusing to eat to avoid marriage, then there must be a reason."

Shang's jaw slightly drops, "You think their lack of eating is to avoid marriage?"

"Yes. Why, surely she knows no man would ever want a woman who looks so ill, so—"

"That's not why she does it," Shang interrupts.

Fa Zhou shuts his eyes for a moment, "I know you mean well, but what else could it be?"

Shang looks down at the cold soup, "They don't like the way they look… among other things."

"That doesn't make sense." Fa Zhou sees Shang's helpless posture, "She's such a beautiful girl, and the matchmaker told her she was too skinny, so why would she do this to herself?"

It takes a moment for Shang to reply, "It's not about being thin or beautiful."

"Then what is it about?" he pleads.

Shang stays silent as he ponders what to say, before he looks up, "I think you need to pay more attention to your child."

Fa Zhou takes a deep breath, "I know she feels the need to have a lot of attention—"

"It's not about attention. They don't want attention. If they did, do you honestly think they would avoid you both as much as they do?"

Fa Zhou shakes his head, "Then why are you telling me to pay more attention to her?"

"Because you haven't been." Shang takes a breath in an attempt to calm down, "You've been their father for all of these years, still you know nothing about them. You don't know their wants or needs. You don't know why they say or do things." He shakes his head, "You've been their father this entire time, and for some reason I'm the one who understands them more." He sees Ping's father grow tense but regretful, "It's not what they say, but how they say it. It's not what they do, but why they do it." He pauses. "If you and your wife spent less time trying to stop their behavior and more time trying to understand it, then I think they would be happy to tell you what's going on themselves."

Fa Zhou takes a stress filled breath, "Okay. I will try to pay more attention to her." Shang stands and begins to leave, but Fa Zhou can't help but ask, "Why do you call Mulan by 'they'?"

Shang remembers a conversation with Ping's grandmother, "It's just easier to say."

"That's what my mother said, but what's it easier to say than?"

 _It's easier to say than he._ Shang bows, "Good night, sir." before he leaves into the hallway and stands in front of Ping's room. "May I come in?"

"Yes."

Shang moves past the door-sheet and smiles foolishly, "Wow. Ah, you look nice." Ping doesn't speak, so Shang takes a few steps closer in concern, "What's wrong?"

It takes a moment for him to respond, "Were you serious when you asked if I'd like us to run away together?"

Shang notices the packed bag sitting beside him, "I just want you to be happy." He sees Ping deep in thought, "What's going on?"

"I can't do this anymore, Shang." He looks up with a tear on his cheek, "I'm sick of playing dress up and pretending to be okay when I'm clearly not." He turns his head back down, "I just— I need a break."

"Just a break?" Shang questions.

Ping shakes his head, "I don't know. I just know I can't stay here right now."

Shang hesitates in thought, "You said before, that you couldn't imagine running away and leaving your family helpless."

Ping almost smiles, "I'll start treating them like family when they start acting like it."

Shang takes a step forward, "But they do care about you. You know that, right?"

Ping laughs, "They don't care about me. They care about the person they want me to be." He gulps in an attempt to prevent tears, "Will you leave with me?"

Shang nods, "Whatever you need, I'm here for you."

He smiles, "Thank you, Shang."

"No problem." Shang looks back to the doorway at the sound of the dog, "What about him?"

Ping looks down, "He's better off here. My parents will need his company more than I will."

Shang reiterates, "Are you sure you want to do this?" and Ping only nods in response. "Okay. Your parents should be asleep soon. When they are go out the back, so if they hear you they will just think you need to use the trench, and then meet me in the stable."

"Okay, but what will you be doing?"

Shang shrugs, "I need to take care of something before we go, but I'll meet you there. I promise. I can't let you do this alone."

"Okay."

Shang sees a sad look on Ping's face, "I need you to do something for me."

He looks up, "What is it?"

Shang hesitates, "Riding a horse may not be as bad as running three miles, but it's still hard work so I'm not letting you leave until you eat something."

"Okay. Fine," Ping complains. "I'll do anything to get out of this place."

Shang breathes a relieved, "Thank you."

"Yeah. No problem." He slightly smiles, "It looks like we'll get that Shang Ping time after all."

* * *

Shang exits Fa Zhou's study but is surprised to see him as he walks down the hallways. "What are you doing?"

Shang holds up the letter in mild shock, "I was going to leave it on the dining room table."

Fa Zhou takes the letter but doesn't open it, "You're leaving?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes." He hesitates, "The letter explains why, but I do think it is more honorable to explain in person."

Fa Zhou looks at the letter for a second, "So, what does it explain?"

Shang looks around to make sure Ping isn't seen, "Mulan confided in me, saying that they wanted to run away." He sees a grim look on the father's face. "They asked me to come with, and if I had said no I'm afraid they would have tried it on their own."

The father takes an uneasy breath, "She can't leave. What would we do without her?"

 _Without her?_ Shang takes a second to respond, as he wonders if the magistrate cares about his child at all or only just the family, "I will try to get them back as soon as I can, but you need to realize how bad things could be if we refuse this to them now."

The magistrate takes a stressed breath, "She's nineteen and unmarried, she's neglecting her duties, and she's not even eating." He questions if the general is listening, so he emphasizes, "Her behavior is unacceptable. You have to know that."

"Actually, I don't," Shang answers in irritation. "They're doing this for a reason. If you would pay attention like you said you would, then you would understand why they're doing this."

Fa Zhou takes a deep breath, "I haven't even seen her since that talk, so how am I supposed to understand any of this?" Shang doesn't speak, so he continues in the raspy tone. "None of this makes any sense. I can't even fathom how she survived the war, but now that she's back you would think she would be happy to do her duties. However, she isn't. She isn't, and Li doesn't even believe she's trying." He sees the irritation on the general's face, "I want to believe she's trying. I do, but how can I when she does things like this? She's supposed to be married and carrying on the family line, not refusing to eat and running away. Tell me how it could possibly be worse when she's already doing this."

Shang had almost interrupted the magistrate, and he can't help but respond with anger at the situation and the ignorance of Ping's father, "He could kill himself."

"What?" asks Fa Zhou in confusion.

Shang takes a deep breath, as he realizes he was louder than he had intended, "They haven't said anything explicitly, but by the things that have been said I wouldn't be surprised if they would attempt to do something like that."

"I know she's been unhappy," acknowledges Fa Zhou. "But could we go back to the part where you called Mulan by 'he'."

"Did I?" asks Shang as he shifts uncomfortably. "I'm sorry. I meant to say she— or they." He attempts an awkward smile, "I must be tired. Could we forget that ever happened?" He sees the magistrate won't let this go easy, "It will be a long night for everyone, even without this discussion."

Fa Zhou takes a relaxing breath, but it doesn't help much, "You know, it's not the first time you've said it."

"I know," Shang looks down in embarrassment. "I don't mean to. It just happens, and I'm sorry if it confuses or offends you or your family in any way."

It takes a moment for Fa Zhou to reply, "There is no need to apologize. I'm sure it's said for a reason." He continues when Shang looks back up, "I would like, however, for you to tell me why you and my mother call Mulan by 'they'."

Shang is silent for a second, "I think that's something you need to learn on your own."

Fa Zhou takes a minute to contemplate, "I hope you know what you're doing."

Shang tries to smile but is unable to, "I made sure they had some soup before we left. I said I wouldn't let them leave otherwise."

Fa Zhou offers a slight smile, "I have a hard time trusting my daughter with anyone, but if I have to I'm glad it's you."

"Thank you, sir."

He nods, but it's quiet for a moment as a sad look appears on his face, "Would it be possible to see my daughter before she leaves?"

Shang hesitates, "I'm not sure that's the best idea."

The father pleads, "Please. If what you say is true— What if you can't make her come back?" He sees the general's concern, "I need to see her. I can't let her leave things like this without saying goodbye. Not again."

Shang comments, "It's unlikely for this to be another three years."

"Still," the father urges. "I need her to know that I care."

Shang takes a relaxing breath, before he nods in defeat, "Okay. You can say goodbye."

Fa Zhou says, "Thank you." before they make their way outside into the clear, dark night with only a sliver of the moon and a few stars to light the way.

When they make it to the stable Ping is seen brushing Khan in the dim lantern light, but the horse is startled by the two silhouettes so Ping has to calm him down. Shang walks up to them, "I'm sorry if we scared him."

"It's alright." Ping turns around, "Wait, we?" He sees his father standing a little farther back. "What's he doing here?"

Fa Zhou steps closer and stands beside Shang, "I just needed to see you." He slightly shakes his head in confusion, "You're dressed—"

"I thought there would be less of a chance of getting attacked if I dressed as a man."

Fa Zhou shakes his head, "If you get caught—"

"What could they do to me that you haven't already done?"

"They could kill you."

Ping sees the panicked look on his father's face. _Is that all I am, an asset and piece of property?_ "Would that be so bad?"

"You're a part of this family," Fa Zhou stresses. "We need you."

Ping slightly laughs, "You don't need me. I make too many mistakes."

"Mistakes?"

"Isn't that what you told Shang in the dining room the other night, that pretending to be a man is a waste of time and that going to war was a mistake?"

Fa Zhou turns to Shang, "You told—"

Ping loudly interrupts, "He didn't say anything." The father turns back to his child. "I have my own ears, you know. I can hear for myself."

Fa Zhou whispers in his hoarse voice, "I didn't mean to make it seem like I was ungrateful."

Ping shakes his head, "That's not what upsets me."

"Then what is it?"

Ping relaxes but stays quiet, so Shang states, "I brought you out here, because you said you needed them to know you care." Fa Zhou takes a breath and grips the cane harder. "If you have something to say, then you should say it before they decide to leave."

Fa Zhou tries to relax, "How long will you be gone for?"

Ping looks down at the stable's dirt floor, "I just need a break."

"Only a break?" His child doesn't respond, "What from?"

Ping almost smiles, "From everything."

There's a short pause before the father speaks, "You know I care— that we care— don't you?"

Ping takes a second to look into his father's eyes, thinking the desperate look of a mistake would make him feel better in leaving, but he's confused by the sincerity. Still, he replies, "You don't care about me. You care about the person you want me to be."

"How can you say that? I and your mother, we care for you."

Ping huffs, "How can you say you care, when Mother knows what's going on but refuses to help me?" Fa Zhou sees the hurt look in his child's expression. "How can you say you care, when you don't consider my feelings or even listen to what I say?"

The magistrate gives a perplexed look, "What does your mother know that I don't?"

Ping stays quiet for a moment before turning to Shang, "I think we should leave."

Shang gives a nod and goes to retrieve his horse from another stall, and Fa Zhou looks at his child in regret, "You know I want you to be happy, right?"

"Perhaps," Ping blankly stares as many memories wash over him. "But it seems as if happiness is subjective to our duties in the long run."

The father takes an uneasy breath, "Why can't you be both happy and a dutiful daughter?"

Ping stays silent as Shang's horse is brought over, but he gives his father a final word, "If you knew the truth, you would know why that's not possible."

Fa Zhou doesn't respond as his child mounts the black horse, but Shang walks over to him, "I promise you, I will keep them safe."

Fa Zhou nods and takes out a few coins, "Take these for the road. It's not much, but I hope it will help you keep her safe."

Shang takes the silver and copper pieces, "It's more than enough." He tries to smile, "Thank you, sir." He slightly bows to the magistrate, before he climbs his horse and the two of them ride their way out of the estate.

* * *

\- Last time I got this far into the story I was wondering how the pronoun usage changed from she to they to he, and this time is no different. When was it? Was it when Shang started to accept them, or was there some transformational scene I'd forgotten about. All I know is that when I first wrote this I was trying to make sure than the pronoun changes (within the writing, not dialogue) wouldn't be so jarring, that it would ease it's way from one to the next; however, now I have no idea how I got from point A to point C. Yeah, yeah. If you people bothered to post comments you'd probably just make fun of me and say point B, but that still doesn't explain when or how... But ah well. I'm at point C, so I'm just going to have to focus on these next chapters.

\- Really, though. If you're still reading these, then you must like something about it. Reading what your favorite part of a chapter is or why you love to hate a character is part of the fun in this, so I would really appreciate anything... even if that means you tell me you don't like my favorite character because he is a high-functioning alcoholic sociopath. I would understand, really... well, not really, but it's understandable that someone with his kind of personality may be less relatable to some than others. And darn it. WHY ISN'T RELATABLE A WORD?!


	58. What's Left Behind

**July 8th (Day 13, Before Midnight)**

"You're up late."

Fa Zhou looks up from the empty table to see his wife, "I couldn't sleep."

"What's wrong?" She comes closer, "What's going on?"

"It's—" He coughs, "It's Mulan."

"Hold on." Fa Li turns to the kitchen, "Let me get you some water." Fa Zhou looks back down at the table, which earlier was made of shiny wood, but now it seems to have become darker and discolored from the night's turmoil. He sees a cup disrupt the scene as his wife pours water from the kettle, "Here. This should make talking easier."

Fa Zhou takes a sip, doubtful, as he knows what's going on, "Mulan left."

Fa Li sits down in shock, "Left? What do you mean, left?"

"She ran away."

Fa Li watches her husband take another sip, "No. There must be some mistake. Maybe she's in the fields." She puts a hand up in remembrance of the horse, "Or rode to a friend's place."

Fa Zhou grumbles, "You know she only has friends from the army."

"Those aren't her friends," the wife nearly shouts with tension, but she takes a breath in an attempt to relax. "With all those times I dragged her to the market, you would think she would have made at least one decent friend." The husband doesn't speak. "She has to be around here somewhere."

"She's gone, Li."

The wife fidgets, "If she's really gone, we need to tell Li Shang." Her husband looks up at her. "If she's gone, he can find her. We need him to start searching now."

Fa Zhou takes a deep breath, as watching his wife's anxious behavior makes him feel even more tired, "He's gone too, Li."

Fa Li pauses and takes a breath of relief, "Then it's okay. They probably just decided to go to his brother's early."

It takes a moment for him to respond, "He left with her, but it wasn't to his brother's." Fa Zhou sees his wife's concern, "The general caught her trying to run away, so he went with her so she wouldn't be left alone."

Fa Li pauses in thought, "How do you know that?"

He takes the letter out and places it on the table, "I didn't have to read it. I caught him before they left, but it would have been here for us had I not been awake."

"Wait." Fa Li looks at him in disbelief, "You caught the general trying to leave with Mulan, and you didn't stop them?"

"The general was afraid that if we didn't let them leave together tonight, then Mulan would have found a time to run off by herself later."

Fa Li takes a deep breath, "But you saw her before she left?"

"Yes."

"How was she?"

Fa Zhou remembers the argument, "I just hope she feels better when she comes back."

"What was she wearing?" Fa Zhou doesn't speak, so she says it again more forcefully, "What was she wearing?" The husband takes a tense breath but still doesn't speak, so the wife walks towards the hallway.

"What are you doing?"

He stands to follow her to Mulan's room. "I just need to check something." They enter the room, and Fa Li rushes over to open the wardrobe. She steps back and places a hand to her head at the sight of the shredded dresses, "I was afraid this would happen."

"What? You thought she would tear her clothes to pieces?"

"Well, not this exactly, but I knew something would be wrong."

Fa Zhou grumbles as he steps forward and takes the note from the sword, which was also placed inside the wardrobe. He whispers, "Because you're my daughter." and looks at his wife's thoughtfulness. "Do you know anything about this?"

"No," Fa Li looks down for a second, before she takes a breath. "We just had a talk earlier, but it was nothing."

"Nothing," Fa Zhou questions as he points the note towards the shredded dresses. "Clearly, this is something."

Fa Li takes a moment to respond, "She asked why I didn't believe she made a good soldier, and I just said it was because she's my daughter and I didn't want her to get hurt."

Fa Zhou takes a deep breath, "Li. If she was honored by the emperor, then she must have been a good soldier— a great one even."

"I know." Fa Li takes his hands, "But don't you realize how bad this is? She should be married with kids, not crossdressing and playing soldier."

Fa Zhou holds her hands tightly to comfort, "I realize things could be better, but this isn't that bad." He looks into his wife's eyes, "Mulan may want to be a soldier, but no matter what she will still be our daughter."

"Right." Fa Li looks away for a moment so that concern won't be seen, but she shakes her head, as she can't help but worry, "I've told you before, she wants to be a man. How is that not bad?"

"Look." Fa Zhou places his hands on her shoulders, "I know you think that's what Mulan wants, but really all she wants is the privilege of being a man." He sees his wife look down in uncertainty, "She wants to be a soldier, but that's no longer legal as a woman. It's only natural that she would do whatever's necessary to get what she wants or so that she can do what she's good at."

Fa Li feels a few tears drip from her eyes, "How do you explain her behavior from when she was younger? Even though you were gone for a while, you still saw how she was when you got back; you saw her cut her hair and attempt to keep her chest completely flat. How do you explain that?"

Fa Zhou takes another breath, "Talents are something people discover at a young age, and even Mulan found how well she was with speed and strength when working the farm as a child. If she truly was attempting look like a man as she grew older, it's probably because she knew soldiers could only be men but was impressed by her grandmother's stories." He pauses to wipe the tears away from Li's face, "You remember also, that flatness is seen as an attractive trait in women. It's possible that Mulan wasn't trying to look like a man at all, but rather just didn't know there was such a thing as too flat."

Fa Li takes an unsteady breath, "I'm not sure this theory of yours makes me feel any better."

Fa Zhou brings her in for a hug, "Everything will be okay. I promise. Mulan will realize she needs us, and she will come back." He lets go but still holds onto her shoulders, "There's no need to worry. We will get our daughter back."

* * *

Ping and Shang stay in a tent as owls and crickets are heard from the outside, and Shang unravels the blanket he had brought with, "You must love a man that's prepared; good timing, good materials, and a good place."

"In the woods," Ping smiles. "Why General, would you have us make camp out here when there's a perfectly good village nearby?"

"Ah, I don't know." He smiles, "I just thought we should go over your story a little before we make an appearance." and lies next to him. "Besides, this gives us that Shang Ping time we've been looking forward to." They kiss, and Shang asks, "So, what is your story?"

"Hmm." Ping rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling of the tent. "How about I'm the son of the great and honorable Fa Zhou and that he hasn't let me be seen in public, because he saw me as such a disgrace to the family name." He frowns, as he remembers his mother not letting him out of the estate, because he didn't dress properly for a girl. "They had counted on my twin sister to save the family, since they thought it would be easier to marry off a daughter than it would be to make me master both the skills of a soldier and a magistrate." He takes a sad breath, "When Father realized Mulan had just as hard of a time being a bride as I did with learning his occupations he sent me to war in hopes that I could gain the skills of a soldier he was unable to teach me due to his injury and so that he would still be alive to teach me magistrate skills when I returned."

Shang sadly smiles, "Sounds like you've thought a lot about this."

Ping shrugs, "What else was I supposed to do? Fantasize about my death?" He shakes his head at the image of his parents crying over a lost daughter, "I may not be doing well, but I try to think of how things could have been or will be." He pauses, "Of course, that's probably why I'm always so sad; I can't help but imagine the things I will never have."

Shang touches his arm, "It will be okay."

Ping's quiet for a second, before he whispers, "I'm tired of people saying things will be okay when they're clearly not." He tries to smile but fails, "Words don't fix anything."

Shang almost laughs, "So, you'd rather not be called Ping then?"

He smiles with irritation, "I never said that."

"Oh, really?" He leans in closer, "What do you mean then?"

Ping's breathing becomes slower, as the general's lips are only inches away from his own, "I'm saying that if we want things to be okay, then we have to make them okay and not just say they are."

Shang foolishly smiles, "So, are you saying that instead of telling you I want to kiss you that I should just kiss you instead?"

Ping relaxes, "Only if you know for sure that I'd be okay with it."

"And are you okay with it?"

"Right now I am." He leans forward and kisses Shang for himself, and they continue. However, there's a moment when Ping feels Shang's hand slide down to his waist, and he pulls it off, "Not there." He moves the hand to his upper back, "It's better if it stays there."

Shang sees Ping's concern, "I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

Ping takes a tense breath, "It's not completely your fault. I suppose we should have talked about my limits before doing this."

"And what would those be?"

Ping pauses to think, "Try to avoid the waist and chest, and I'd prefer to keep my clothes on."

"That doesn't leave many options." Shang smirks, "What about me? Do I keep mine on?"

Ping slightly laughs, "Don't you think that would be a little awkward, you having your clothes off when I don't?"

Shang shrugs, "Not necessarily."

Ping shakes his head, "No. Let's just keep things slow. I like it like this."

Shang continues to smile sweetly, "Okay, but I will say that if we were to get married I'm not sure how long that last rule would work for." His smile slips as his voice becomes concerned, "I'm sorry, but they would expect things."

Ping touches the front of Shang's shoulder, "Let's not talk about that. We're finally alone. Let's enjoy it while it lasts."

Shang nods, "Okay." before Ping lays his head on his shoulder, and he keeps his arms wrapped around Shang's chest as they slowly whisper each other to sleep.

* * *

\- Note the juxtaposition between the end of the first part (where Fa Zhou says they will get their daughter back) and the beginning of the second part (where Mulan is addressed as Ping and comes up with his backstory). It's things like that which makes writing look a lot better than it is... which technically does make it better, but you get the point. I must say that I do this kind of thing a lot. If there's another word that can be used that adds alliteration, then I will use that word instead. For instance, "Shang says"... although I rarely use the word 'says' even in that case. I just find the word annoying because it's so commonly used, but then I will reread my writing and find I use the word "responds" a lot. Of course, when I first write and post a set of chapters, you can easily tell which ones I worked on in the same sitting based on the words that are used. It's like based on where my mind is I will use a certain set of words way to often, and then in the next sitting I will use a different set of words too often. It's weird, but editing exists for a reason.


	59. What it Means to be Afraid

**July 9th (Day 14, Before Dawn)**

Ping opens his eyes slowly and realizes he isn't breathing, before he takes a long, shallow breath and turns to his other side. He removes the blanket from his arms and torso, shivering from the cold morning air, before he touches his ribs in regret of wearing the gauze to bed. At the touch his side hurts, and he holds it as he wonders if a rib could have broken. _Except that nothing feels out of place, and it would probably hurt more if that were the case._ Ping takes a deep breath in frustration, but he immediately regrets it when a shooting pain stops him in the middle of the breath.

Shang opens his eyes as the area beneath the blanket becomes cold, and he sits up with concern when he hears Ping grunt in pain, "What's wrong? Did your sword wound open up?"

Ping turns his head for a second to see Shang, "Ah, no." before he moves his hand lower and the tender touch reminds him of that day. "It's nothing. My side just hurts a little."

"Oh," Shang responds as he suppresses a yawn. "Do you know why?"

Ping turns around with a guilty smile, "It might have something to do with wearing the gauze to sleep." He sees a worried, questioning look from Shang, "Binding makes it harder to breath, which is why I woke up. The pain just happens if I wear it for too long." He shakes his head at his stupidity, "I'm not even supposed to wear it to sleep. If I do, I feel like I haven't slept at all."

Shang hesitates, "Then why did you?"

Ping pulls the sleeves of the training-robe over his hands, before he twists them together anxiously, "It's just— It was perfect, a good night, and you were here." He pauses, "Too be so close to someone like that, to even just be seen like that, it's embarrassing and makes me feel uncomfortable."

Shang stays quiet as he peeks through the flap of the tent, before he takes a breath and attempts a smile, "Look, it's almost dawn. How about while I gather us some berries you change and try to get some more sleep?"

Ping smiles apologetically, "Thank you."

"No problem. You can repay me by eating some of those berries." He sees Ping's smile slip into a frown, "You know, eating a few berries isn't going to kill you."

He huffs, "Not unless they're poisoned."

Shang gives a look, "We had to salvage food for over a year at the training camp. Do you honestly think we could ever find ourselves eating poisonous berries now?"

Ping looks down, "I suppose not."

It's quiet for a moment as Shang looks from the exit and back to Ping, "I know you're afraid, but it won't happen."

He looks back up in doubt, "How can you be so sure?"

Shang takes a deep breath and shakes his head, "Okay. Look. I know you don't want to hear this, but if it's not happening that means you're not healthy. So, if it does happen, I'll probably be relieved." Ping doesn't speak and only looks away in contemplation. "I care about you. I know you see it as a bad thing, but there has to be a way for you to keep your mind off of it."

Ping gulps, "Don't you think I've tried?"

Shang pauses for a moment, hating that he's putting someone he cares so much for to tears, "I don't think you haven't tried, but I sometimes wonder if you had anything good to try with. I mean, trying to distract yourself by trying to be a good bride probably won't be as good of a distraction for you as if you were to actually live the way you wanted to."

Ping huffs, "It's a hard thing to ignore, Shang."

"I realize that." He offers a sad look, "I just want to help."

Ping almost laughs but instead gulps, as tears threaten to betray him, "If you want to help, then leave so I can change and sleep like we originally agreed."

Shang whispers, "Okay. I'll go find some berries for me, then."

Ping watches as he disappears, and it's at that point he's filled with tears. He sobs, "I've tried. I've tried. Just why?" He takes a shaky breath, "I don't know what to do."

* * *

Fa Qiang watches his mother stare out at the sunrise, and he walks up to stand beside her, "So, you and Father made up."

She takes a moment to respond, as she watches the golden light slowly take over the darkness of the blue-grey sky, "I'm not sure I would call it that, but things are better than they once were." Fa Lei continues when her son doesn't respond, "It's nice to know why he did the things he did, to know why things were never good between us, but by the time it was said it was too late." She stops to think, "We had caused each other so much pain, it was just easier to move on."

"But you're still here," Qiang comments in confusion.

She stares out past the water and through the stone arch and sees Mulan's mother gather a pail of water to start the day, "I want to see the family become successful again."

He follows her eyes and also notices the sad, tired woman, "Mulan ran away again, didn't she?" His mother only nods. "Do we know why?"

His mother smiles grimly, "The dragon said she just needed a break."

He chuckles, "I bet our supreme overlord didn't react well."

She shakes her head, "No. He didn't." and looks over at the head ancestor's large stone. "Heng has a lot of anger issues, but, of course, you already knew that."

Qiang smiles as the dark sky shifts into a safe, deep blue, "I think everyone knows that." His smile fades, as he sees his mother's concern, "What's wrong?"

Fa Lei almost shrugs, "It's nothing, really." She pauses, hoping he would change the subject, but he doesn't speak. "It's just your father." She takes a deep breath, "He wanted me to make sure that people knew he wasn't that bad of a man."

"He wasn't. He did things for a reason. He wouldn't want to harm anyone."

"Sure. I know that, and you know that. Min probably even knows that—" She cuts herself off at the sight of a few ghosts exiting their tombstones, "But they hate him."

Fa Qiang turns his head to see Jun, Heng, and a few of the others whisper in disgust. He looks back and sees his mother's sad expression, "They can't think so badly of him forever."

His mother takes a relaxing breath, "How many years has your son hated you for?"

He looks at Thang's tombstone as sad guilt sinks within him, "That's different. It was my fault. I wasn't brave enough to go to war myself, so I decided to send my strongest son." He mumbles, "I guess I sent the wrong one." He shakes his head, "I shouldn't have sent either of them. I should have gone myself, but I guess I was too much of a coward to protect my family. And now both my son and I are dead, and the fate of our family rests in the hands of a daughter who would rather be dead than be a woman." He takes a frustrated breath, "If I had made a different choice—"

"You couldn't have predicted any of this."

"But things could have been different." He takes a deep breath in an attempt to relax, but it doesn't work, "If I had gone, both of my sons could have had children. We would have prospered. We could have had a better title, and we would have had no worries." He emphasizes, "This is my fault, and my son has every right to be mad at me." He looks at the ground, "I deserve it."

"No." Fa Lei places a hand on her son's shoulder, "You don't deserve any such thing." Qiang turns his head back up. "You did what you thought was best. Just like your father—"

"Just like my father?" he interrupts with irritation and becomes intangible to his mother's touch. "It's too late to undo my mistakes, and even though you and him ended things fine—" He takes a deep breath to calm down, "I don't want my son and I to end things like you and he did. I want us to be happy with how things ended up. I want to know my mistake was the better option." He stresses, "I need to make sure he's not mad at me and that we can carry on without a rift between us."

The mother nods in understanding, "Like the rift that was left between your father and I." The son doesn't speak. "Things will get better. It only takes time."

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?"

Fa Lei looks over her son's shoulder and sees the group of discontent spirits, "Both." She watches as her son nods and leaves, before she's left with the angry ghosts glaring at her from the distance. Looking over the size of the temple, however, she realizes that what they've learned to be distance is actually rather close. It is uncertain to know whether they were close enough to hear, as spirits learn to whisper quietly when talking amongst themselves, but she can still sense their hate and it forces her to hide herself away in the safeness of stone.

* * *

\- Okay. It's been like so many chapters, and yet I have not posted anything about binding safety. I don't know if there will ever be any terrible consequences in this or any other potential Mulan fic, but in real life there are so there needs to be a warning here... I thought about posting this in chapter 2, but I guess I had more "important" things to post in the author notes. Seriously, I kind of hate myself right now.

\- **Chest Binding Risks/Safety:** First off, there are medical grade binders you can get off of www. . courteous of the company known as Underworks. It may be a bit expensive, but it costs no more than a bra would... or so I'm told. If it's too expensive for you, then there are two other options. There are plenty of Youtubers and Charities that hold binder giveaways for those in desperate need. In these cases the binders have usually already been used and are given away either due to the person moving on to surgery or simply because they bought a new one. That doesn't mean that the binder is at all in bad condition, but after a couple years they can get stretched out (also not washer or dryer safe typically)... Now. Like I was saying, there is also a third option. You can get Asian binders off of Ebay for $5 to $15. Yes. That's correct. So, what's the downside? Well, the binders are advertised for lesbians, tomboys, and cosplayers, and the binder has claps like a bra does, except on the side. I think it's also meant for people with smaller sizes, because the fabric near the claps tear easily... and also because the sizes don't go very high. Whichever option you choose, way the pros and cons.

 **2)** Never ever use any kind of tapes, gauze, or ace bandages to compress the chest. These things increase the risks that are involved when binding: fractured or broken ribs (which could result in puncturing a lung), compression of blood vessels (which can lead to blood clots or a decreased flow of blood to the heart, later resulting in a heart attack), and back problems due to compressing the spine. What's worse is that if these things happen to you, then it may prevent you from getting the top surgery you may have been wanting... If you're desperate enough to try any of these things, please don't even try duck-tape. Because you will suffocate, and if you don't just so happen to find a pair of scissors right next to you, then you may die. I'm not even trying to scare you or anything. Just trust me... Seriously, don't do this.

 **3)** DIY Binders aren't safe to use, and even if they are they are likely to not be as helpful as a real one would be. Binders may be costly, and they may not be sold in a lot of stores if any at all, but it's always better to save up for one rather than desperately going through all of those other stupid and unhealthy options first... Look. You probably don't even have to come out; although, if you're wearing a binder, then you're going to have to explain it, right? If not, then you can easily just get a prepaid debit card from the store, and then even if you're underage and your parents aren't being the most helpful (to put things lightly), then you can still get a binder. You don't have to use ace bandages and put your health at risk. Even if it doesn't feel like it, you always have other options.

-Hope this helped. I wish you all the best.


	60. The Outsider

**July 9th (Day 14, Midday)**

Shang sits by the fire he had made, but the heat quickly disperses into the cool air that remains from the wet morning. He hears movement in the tent but only glances back for a second, and he focuses on the fire as footsteps come near him. "What are you cooking?"

"Some bird." There's a pause as Ping sits down and the smell of the smoky meat hits them both, "Not that you would want to eat it."

"I want to," Ping folds his hands. "But I can't."

Shang pulls the stick away from the fire and takes a bite from the meat on its end, before he points the stick so the meat's right in front of Ping, "Are you sure you don't want any?"

"Yeah," he tries not to breathe in the scent. "I'm sure." Shang pulls the meat back and takes another bite, as Ping shifts awkwardly, "So. How was your morning?"

Shang shrugs, "I looked for some berries, ate those berries. I got bored and made a bow and arrows, and then I got this." He moves the stick before taking another bite. "There's more if you want some."

Ping takes a shallow breath, "I said no, Shang."

"Just thought you would be hungry." He hears Ping's stomach growl, "You know, if that happens while we're in town, then we're going to have a lot of people trying to sell or give us food."

"I don't care."

"Sure you do," Shang retorts. "After all, you won't be able to say no when you have all that food around you and people ask you if you want to eat every step you take." He takes another bite from the stick and gestures what's left of it to Ping, "You want it?"

The smell, which is so rich and good, makes Ping's stomach turn and his head spin, and he holds a hand to both places as he comments, "I don't feel so well."

Shang pulls the meat back in contemplation, before he picks up the skin of water and hands it to him, "Here. Try to drink something."

Ping does as he's instructed but stops when it's half empty, since the large amount of water in comparison to the lack of food actually makes him feel worse, "Thanks."

Shang looks over him in concern, "That didn't help, did it?"

"Not really," Ping admits as he holds his stomach.

Shang looks over the remains of meat which hang from the stick and hands it him, "Here. Try nibbling on this. See if that helps." Ping doesn't object as the small amount of meat is placed in his hand, and Shang stabs the rest of the bird's flesh onto the stick before holding it into the fire. He looks over at a nibbling Ping and smiles, "So, tell me, am I a good cook?"

Ping shrugs, "It's okay."

"Right," Shang frowns.

"You might want to just ask someone else. I—"

"I get it," Shang interrupts. "You don't eat. There's no reason that you should know if it's good or not." He pauses in frustration. "Except that your cooking is great, so you should be able to tell me if I'm doing at least something right."

"I'm sorry," Ping murmurs.

Shang was about to respond, but a strong, slender man walks into the small clearing and their attention is diverted to him. "You two argue very well. Tell me, what is your relationship?"

Shang and Ping glance at each other, before Shang replies, "He was a soldier of mine in the army. I was the general."

"Right," the man walks closer. "And your relationship now would be?"

Ping answers fast and with a higher voice than he had intended, "Friends. Allies. You know, joining up to see how we've been since war."

"Right," the man smiles. "You might want to work on that." He watches the soldier places a hand to his throat. "I was actually talking about the relationship. It needs to be discussed. However, your voice could use some work too."

Shang watches as Ping puts the hand down and becomes quiet, before he puts the stick down and picks up a bow and arrow, "Who are you and what do you want?"

The man laughs, "And here I thought your brother was paranoid."

Shang lifts the bow up and points the arrow at him, "Who are you, what do you want, and how do you know who I am?"

The man continues to smile, "You told me you were the general. Your brother just has a well-known reputation."

Shang relaxes the bow. _Well, I guess it would make sense for people to know of the family that has both the general of the imperial army and a magistrate of a large village known for trading._

The man continues, "My name is Cain Faerwald, but to make things simple you can call me Ru Qiang, as I consider myself to be a fine scholar of power."

"Right, Cain Faerwald," he has a hard time speaking the name. _But it could be important to remember._ "What kind of name is that?"

"English," responds the man with a smile. He sees Shang's eyes narrow, "I'm here to do business. You would not believe the inventions—"

"We're not interested," Shang spouts.

"Are you sure?" the man questions, even though the bow continues to point at him. "I may have just the thing to help your friend with heh— ah— his voice."

"Like I said before, we're not interested."

Ping reluctantly asks, "What's the invention?"

"Ah!" responds the man, as he pulls a small, metal case from his bag, "The packaging costs more than the actual product." He opens the case up. "But take a few puffs from these on a regular basis and you will soon have the voice of your average Joe."

"Average what?" asks Ping.

"Average man," Cain corrects himself. "Smoke these and you could have the voice of your average man."

Shang sees Ping about to speak. "No." Shang nearly shouts, "No. You're not doing this." He sees his curious smile, "Your father would kill me if he knew this was even happening."

Ping smiles, "Come on, Shang. You can't tell me that I pass perfectly."

Shang takes a deep breath, "You were in the army for three years, and no one figured it out. You don't need this. You're fine."

Ping frowns, "It's not like I talked much in the first place."

Shang is quiet for a moment, as he realizes that it's true, "I'm not letting you do this. If you're going to have anything in your mouth, it's going to be food. Not some foreign substance."

Cain interrupts, "Did I mention this product also suppresses hunger?"

Ping looks away from Shang, "How much does it cost?"

The man looks over the two for a minute, "How about a tael for the casing, and half of that for each cigar?"

Shang immediately responds, "We don't even have that much with us." hoping this will make the man leave.

The trader smirks and nods, "That bow there and those arrows. They look handmade." Shang lowers the bow, but he knows it's too late to hide it. "If you make me three sets, I will give your soldier there a casing and sixteen cigars."

"No."

"This is a very generous offer. It's unlikely you will see another one like it."

"I don't care. I'm not making bows or arrows for you."

Ping comments, "I can." just about tired of Shang's stubbornness.

The man smiles, "Then it looks like we have a deal."

"No," Shang yells. He looks at Ping, "I am the general of the imperial army and you are my soldier; therefore, I cannot let this transaction happen." He sees Ping's annoyed look and points at the trader, "I don't trust him. We're not making him any weapons."

"Why don't you trust him?" Ping nearly smirks. "Because he's blond?"

"Yes. That's exactly why," Shang quickly answers, but he gives a look of confusion when he actually sees the man, "Wait. You're blond?"

"More of a dirty-blond, actually," answers the Englishman. "But I dye it black. I suppose it's due again, if your soldier was actually able to notice it."

Shang looks at the man's hair again and this time sees the discoloration on top, but he has a hard time understanding how it's supposed to be blond. _I've never seen blond hair before, but this looks very similar to light brown. What's the difference?_ He shakes his head, "Aren't all you blondies supposed to be slaves or something?"

The trader gives a neutral look, "I'm very careful. Hence, the hair dye." Shang grumbles but doesn't speak, which makes the man smile. "You're Li Shang, if I'm correct." He sees the glower as confirmation of that fact, before he turns to the soldier, "What's your name?"

The soldier tries to speak in a lower tone, "Ping. Fa Ping."

Cain's eyes open wide in astonishment, "Fa, huh. Would that be to any relation of a Fa Xun, by any chance?"

"Ah," Ping hums in thought. "I don't think so. I've never heard of him."

"Are you sure?" asks the trader. "He's about my height. He's strong. Um." He pauses. "He has the usual black hair and dark-brown eyes."

Shang becomes still, as he realizes that sounds a lot like one of his family guards. _But he's right. Black hair and dark-brown eyes are very common. There's no way to know for sure._

Ping shakes his head, "Sorry. I've never heard of him."

"Too bad," comments the trader. "He was in business with me once, after he had left war. It would be nice to hear from him again."

Shang stays quiet, realizing this associate of his really was Chinese and not another outsider. He grumbles, paranoid with confusion, "How many of your kind is there?"

"My kind?" reiterates the trader.

"You know. Your kind," responds Shang. "You outsiders."

"Shang," Ping comments. "Don't you think that question is a little less than okay to ask?"

"It's fine," responds the Englishman. "He's the general. It's a fair question to ask." He sees the taller man continue to glare at him, "Right. Well, we have three ships. It's about a month's journey to your shore, and from there we have horses, sometimes with wagons."

"How many of you are there?" shouts Shang.

The man fumbles his words, "I don't know, sir. Not many, I would reckon. We use the ships primarily to store goods. We come here on business. We come in peace."

"Yeah, that's what they all say," replies Shang in doubt. "But the next thing you know you're at war, every last man dies, and then you sell your daughters to the enemy in hopes for peace." He spits at the ground. "You sicken me."

Ping interrupts, "Shang, don't you think you're taking this a little too far? The English haven't done anything to us yet."

"Yet," emphasizes Shang as he keeps his eye on the outsider. "For all we know, they could get us addicted to some foreign substance, have our empire's money be handed over to them for that substance, and then leave our people and our country in ruin."

Ping takes a stressed breath, "You're unbelievable. Are you even hearing yourself?"

"Hey," Shang turns around. "I'm just being careful, which is more than I can say about you. I can't believe you're willing to smoke some random object, just because a foreigner told you it would lower your voice. How do we actually know it will do it? How do we know that it's not just some addictive thing he's trying to sell you, because he knows someone who has it once will want it again?"

Ping stays quiet for a minute, as the desperation and need for a solution soon pale in comparison to the cost of something they know nothing about, "You're right. I'm sorry."

Shang relaxes and takes a deep breath before turning to the trader, "You—"

"Get out of here," he finishes. "It's fine. Clearly, you don't trust me." He smiles and nods to the soldier, "If you want more information on the product, I will be heading back to that one village that has two roads and that one large river as trading and travel routes." He sees Shang's smile drop. "That's where your family lives, right?"

Ping sees Shang's hesitant to reply but eventually nods, but the news of the three travel and trading routes confuse him, "How big, exactly, is the village you come from?"

Shang looks back at Ping, "Um. It's a little bigger than where you come from." He looks back at the trader, "Why that town? Why go there?"

The man smiles, "A trader needs no reason to visit a fine town like yours, but if you must know it's business. I wouldn't want to bore you with the details." He looks between the general and his soldier, "You should really bring— sorry, what's your name?"

The soldier softly replies, "Fa Ping."

"Right. Fa Ping," responds the trader. "You should bring him to that town of yours. It's only what any decent boyfriend would do."

Shang's cheeks flush with embarrassment, "He's not my boyfriend."

The man shrugs, "Boyfriend. Girlfriend. Whatever you're calling it." The trader bows, before he turns and walks away."

Ping mumbles with irritation, "You're right. I don't like him."

"Finally," Shang sits back down. "Something we can agree on." He picks up the stick and sees the now cold meat is actually edible, "Do you want some?"

Ping shakes his head, so Shang takes a bite of it himself. "Don't you ever worry? I mean," Ping stammers. "He knew about me right away."

Shang uses eating as an excuse to think, "It seemed like he uses people who are in your position a lot. I wouldn't worry about it if I were you." He pauses, "What was his name again?"

It takes a minute for Ping to remember, "Cain, I think."

Shang nods, "Right. We should remember that."

Ping shakes his head, as several thoughts and scenarios flood his mind, "But don't you ever worry? Don't you worry someone will find out about me, or that someone will find out about us?"

Shang twists the stick in his hands and watches as the meat twirls, before he whispers, "It's one thing for your family to know about you and us. It's another for the entire dynasty to find out, so, yes, I do worry." He hesitates. "There are people who believe men should be welcome to any pleasures they please, but I'm not sure how people would react to this. Any of this, and I fear what they would do."

Ping stays still, aside from wrapping the sleeves' ends around his hands, "I worry that if I'm honest about myself and how I feel, that I will regret it and see it as a mistake later on."

Shang's mouth is left open in a smile, but the laugh never escapes, "What were you planning to tell your father anyway, after all those cigars supposedly lower your voice?"

Ping shakes his head as he nearly laughs, "I don't know. I didn't think about that."

"That's probably something you should have thought of beforehand." Shang stops Ping from wrapping his hands tighter within the sleeves, "Hey. You know I love you, right?"

"Yeah. I know," Ping smiles. "I love you too."

* * *

\- Sorry. Is 287 document pages too far in to start introducing characters? Ah, well. It's happening, and, I swear, it's going to be good... Oh. Yeah. I understand how this could be a potentially controversial chapter. I did insert some history into it, as apparently there was something about how the English reintroduced opium to China which crashed their economy or something (keep in mind I'm just editing this. I did the research a long time ago, like last year.) Anyway, even though Shang is right about how the English would eventually do exactly what he said, I don't want anyone to think that I believe it gave him any right to treat a foreigner that way. Because it doesn't. I just thought his correct prediction and paranoia would not only suit the character but also be kind of funny or at least interesting to anyone who likes history... Oh, and as far as selling daughters and all of that, that isn't part of the history. That is a reference to the second Mulan movie, which is the most horrible thing I have ever watched. I'd just like to make that clear.


	61. The Sickness

**July 9th (Day 14, Early Night)**

Yong slouches over the brown, half-finished blanket. The stitching had been steady and fast earlier, but now Yong finds it hard to keep the seam unseen, as his hand has become unsteady over the hours. _I took a break to eat, and I've gone longer before without issue._ He brings a hand to his warm forehead as he looks down at the finished bottle with unease. _Why didn't I save it?_

Yong remembers how after he had finished his eggs the other day he had escaped to his room to down the rest of the baijiu. _There were just too many people: too many people asking too many questions, stupid questions._ He brings the water-skin to his mouth, but the warm water doesn't make him feel any better. He takes a deep breath, shakes his head at the blanket, and mumbles, "This is taking forever." He looks over the poor stitching and realizes he may have to redo it. _But I can't work like this. I- I can't-_ He claps his hands together in attempt to keep them from shaking, and he takes a nervous breath as he sees the door-sheet open.

"Hey. How are you?"

Yong tries to steady his breathing and hands furthermore at the sight of his eldest brother, "I- I'm fine." He pauses. "Why?"

Li Fu gives a concerning look, "Well, you didn't talk much at dinner."

"Do I ever?" responds Yong as he folds his project and sets it aside.

His brother pauses for a moment, "Could I see what you're working on there?"

"No," Yong immediately replies, as he remembers the horrible stitching. _I can't let him see— But I'm okay. It's— It'll be alright._ He tries to smile, "It's just not done yet."

Li Fu looks over his youngest brother carefully and hesitates to comment, "You don't look well."

Yong attempts to laugh, "What do you mean?"

"Well, for starters, you're sweating."

Yong pretends to smile, "It's just hot in here." but he knows it's the fakest fake smile he's ever done. _I'm usually so good at this._

"Hot?" the elder brother disbelieves. "You don't even have the fire lit."

The youngest brother only takes a second to look at the dark fireplace, before he turns his head back around and slowly responds, "I've grown accustomed to rooms without fireplaces."

The magistrate smiles, "I hope that's true, because the family you're marrying into isn't as privileged as we are."

Yong huffs, "Who is?"

Li Fu was about to reply, but he doesn't talk as a servant bows, "Sorry to interrupt, sir, but Han Zhu is here. He says you needed to speak with him."

"Right." The magistrate looks at his youngest brother, "We have a guest, so don't—"

"Don't kill anyone," Yong finishes and ignores the slight shock on his brother's face. "Don't worry. I'm just going to go out for a ride in the cool air."

"No," the magistrate sternly orders, before he turns his head in what appears to be an urgent desire to leave. He looks back, "You're sick. We don't need you out in the cold to catch a fever. You're staying here." He mistakes Yong's tiredness for annoyance and disbelief, "Look. I have to go, but I'll be back in a while to check on you. Okay?"

Yong takes a shaky breath, "Okay." and watches as his brother leaves. The servant's grim expression is only seen for a second, before the sheet falls back into place.

He looks down at his trembling hands, but he soon shuts his eyes before stuttering under his breath, "Okay. So just— The bar. Go to the bar… without money." He pauses to take a deep breath, but even though an idea surfaces he still finds his mind cluttered. "Money. Just one coin. Just one tael from my brother's study. Then the bar, and finally a drink." He stands and grabs the bag from the side of his bed, before he puts the ceramic bottle in it and leaves out of the room.

He looks over the hallway, paranoid, but only his mother's and sister's voices are heard from Li's room, "What if he doesn't like me?"

He hears his mother respond, "You have two other suitors, but since this is the best one put this on, be graceful, and most of all stay quiet."

"Be quiet," Yong whispers, before he sneaks down the hall, passes the sitting room, and enters the study. At first he looks in the drawer, but to his surprise it's no longer there. _But he's always so organized._ Yong shakes his head in confusion, before he scours the rest of the room until he finally finds a coin-bag on the bookshelf. Yong smirks as he opens it up and takes out one of the many tael, "He's not going to miss you one bit, is he?"

After putting the silver coin into his bag, Yong exits the room and makes his way back to the hallway. His smile slips, though, when he sees his sister in a red dress, head downturned, and quieter than ever before. He takes some steps closer, "Your suitor is being introduced to you tonight."

The small girl only nods, but she soon opens her mouth and looks up with curiosity and deep concern, "Why are your hands shaking?"

Yong tries to laugh it off as he clasps his hands together, "Nothing's wrong, Li. I'm fine. Just focus on making your suitor happy, and show him the beautiful girl you are." She doesn't speak, but Yong can tell that she's still bothered and that his compliments and motivation haven't helped.

Li Ya sees her son's disappointment in his lack of help, or perhaps his cause of destruction, and instructs the little sister to the family dining room, "I will meet you there to show you the rest of the way." Li nods before she leaves, and after she's a good distance away the mother speaks, "You don't look well."

Yong has become bored of the statement and only responds with, "I know."

Li Ya glances at his black bag, "Where are you going?"

"I was just going outside for some fresh air," stammers Yong.

The mother smiles with concern, "You really aren't well, are you? Your lies are usually better." She sees her son look down for a second, "Do you want to tell me what's really going on?"

Yong looks from the floor, to his bag, to her, "I need a drink."

She shakes her head, "We have a well— and water in the kitchen."

He hears his mother's crackly voice, "You know that's not what I mean."

She sees his jittery hands and attempts a smile as to not to cry, "That would sometimes happen to your father… you know, the man who helped with your existence." She gulps, "Sometimes I wonder if we made the right choice, you know. We probably could've picked anyone, but we chose him because we thought no one would believe a drunk if he told the truth, and any child he would have would be better without him and he knows that." Yong watches as a few tears escape her eyes. "It was easy and seemed to be the best option for the least amount to go wrong." Li Ya shakes her head as her smile slips, but she seems determined to keep it as she places a hand on his shoulder, "You're so talented. Whether you decide to be a warrior or a scholar, I know you could do so well. But I fear that this problem of yours will get in the way and that I have made a mistake."

Yong briefly looks down at his mother's hand. _I guess being a seamstress is out of the question._ "This isn't your fault. You couldn't have known this would happen." He sees his mother about to speak, but he feels his fingers twitch and he turns them into a fist hoping for more control. However, his hands still shake slightly, and he takes a deep, anxious breath, "Mother. If I'm going to use the horse, then I need to leave now."

Her eyelashes are still wet, but she's made a big attempt to stop crying, "Okay."

Yong finds it hard to remove her tight grip from his shoulder, as if she's afraid to lose him, but when he finally does he comments, "Li needs you right now. Let's go to the dining room so that I can leave and so you can help her."

She nods and they move along, until they reach the room and Li Ya kneels in front of her daughter. Yong watches them as he cracks the door, and he hears her say, "I'm going to take you to your brother's office where you will meet your suitor. Do you remember what to do?"

Li comments with a frown and sensitive tone, "Be graceful and quiet."

The mother smiles and the lantern's light shines off of her wet eyelashes, "That's right. Now, when we go out there make sure to make Mother proud."

"Yes, Mother."

At that last reply Yong leaves, but as he makes his way through the cold wind and to the stable, he can only think of all the reasons why he won't be able to make his mother proud.

* * *

Yong slams the off-hinge door open, and people stare as he rushes to the bar in apparent desperation. He shakily pounds the silver tael down onto the counter, "Get me a drink."

The bartender takes his time to look over the wide-eyed customer, "You don't look well."

"Get me a drink," Yong grits his teeth as he leans over the bar and emphasizes, "Now."

The bartender takes a long, deep breath before pouring his best customer a drink, and he watches as the young man chugs the cup of baijiu, "You must be thirsty."

Yong comments, "Another." and takes a few breathes as he gets a refill. "Ah. I feel like I haven't had one of these in days." The last word was enunciated and prolonged so much that whatever attention he had before doubles, and now people whisper amongst themselves. However, when Yong glowers over at a nearby table the whispering stops, and he finishes the drink with a smile. "Another."

The bartender remarks, "You were just here the other day." as he refills the cup. "I'm surprised. You're not usually so desperate so soon."

"Who says I'm desperate?" Yong asks as he stares down the bartender. "Was it my brother? I bet it was my brother." Yong almost stands as he continues his thoughts rapidly, "Has he been here? What has he told you? He thinks I have a problem, but I have no problem. Did he tell you that?"

The bartender answers in slight confusion, "No. He hasn't been here." Yong completely sits back down, so he continues, "But if you're behaving like this, then maybe you do have a problem."

"As far as I'm concerned, if he can pay, he doesn't have a problem.

Yong watches the light-brown eyed man sit down, and he calmly retorts to the bartender as he holds up the silver coin, "See. I don't have a problem." before he looks back over at the other man. "So Who are you?"

The man smiles, "Ru Qiang." before he looks at the bartender. "One glass for me please." He laughs, "I'm comparing the drinks here to that of my usual hangout." and nods to Yong. "That was some impressive work you did on those guys the other day."

Yong frowns in observance of the tall man, "None of yours, I hope."

The man shakes his head, "Na. My associates find better places to talk this this slump."

Yong looks around the comfortable place. _So much has happened here, though, and so many good things—"_

Qiang continues, "I just wanted to compliment you on those skills of yours." He looks around to make sure they're free from prying eyes, before he whispers, "I don't suppose you'd like a job, coming from such a wealthy and well-respected family that you do?"

Yong looks back at the single coin before commenting, "I'm not as rich as I look."

The man nods to the side exit, "Would you like to discuss options in the alley?"

Yong smirks, "Sure. It's not like people trust me to gamble with them anymore."

Qiang almost laughs, "Believe me. Things are better than they seem."

Yong nods before taking the bottle out of his bag and handing it to the bartender, "I would like a refill please."

The bartender looks at the object with disbelief, "You kept it."

Yong smirks, "It was a very good investment. Thank you very much for such a great opportunity."

The bartender shakes his head, "That's the last time I make that mistake." as he refills the item and takes the silver coin.

Yong watches Qiang finish his drink, before he takes back the ceramic bottle and they head outside, "So, what's the job." Yong smiles to himself, as he realizes he's in the same situation as the man he had executed. _Except I know well enough to finish the job._ He looks over the alley in remembrance, until he sees the woman who had been there for business previously.

Qiang looks to where Yong is and comments, "Want to spend some time with her?"

Yong laughs as he looks away from the woman, "I have no money."

The man smirks, "No problem. I'll pay for you."

"No." Yong takes a breath in frustration, "I just don't want to, okay?"

Qiang grins, "Ah, I see. You're a man's man. I get it. There's no problem with that."

Yong looks over the situation as many questions enter his mind, but he can't help but turn to make sure the woman isn't prying before commenting, "Just shut up, and tell me what the job is."

Qiang takes a moment to think, "There's a lot of options, but how about I start you off with something easy." He pauses, "You gamble, right?"

Yong smirks, "I used to."

"You any good?"

He shrugs, "Good enough to earn myself half a tael of baijiu and a room for the night."

The man smiles, "Perfect." as he places his hand on Yong's shoulder. Yong almost shrugs it off but instead listens as the man continues, "I know a merchant who owns a nice bar, and a lot of visitors that come to town go there for a good time. I'm sure if you gambled there, then you would have almost no problem continuing it for a very, very long time."

"Visitors." Yong hesitates, "Are there usually a lot of people there? Because I don't like people. They ask too many questions."

The man replies with an even look, "Most of the people there only visit occasionally. Even the regulars won't pay much attention to you. They're too caught up in their own lives."

"Alright." Yong shrugs off the man's hand, "Where's this bar of yours?"

"It doubles as an inn. It's just beyond the bridge."

Yong questions, "I don't understand. That's so close by and we have rooms as well, so why do people only visit there?"

Qiang offers a laughable look, "How many rooms does this place have? Two?"

"No, actually. Four."

The man laughs, "The inn I'm referring to has ten rooms, and the place looks way better than this place."

Yong looks over the building and realizes that even though his memories have changed the appearance of the place that it doesn't look as great as he's made himself believe it to be. He turns back to the man, "What makes you think I want to go to a parasite's establishment."

"Hey. I know merchants have a bad name, but they're people too. People look for good paying jobs, and that's why I think you will enjoy working for me. I think that a strong, skilled man like you isn't going to let a little thing like a parasite prevent you from getting what you deserve."

Yong nods. _Well, I guess that makes sense._

Qiang continues, "So. How about we gather our horses and ride there so that you can earn us some nice shiny coins?"

"Sure. Why not?"

The man smiles, "There we go." and they head to the small, open building, but Yong looks around in confusion and disbelief. "What is it?"

"My horse isn't here." Yong walks around the five poles inside the building, but there's only two horses tied there so he knows it's pointless. "I can't believe this. My brother's going to kill me."

Qiang comments, "I know horses are expensive, but I would think your family had more."

"We have a few," replies Yong, "but one of my brothers has one of them, and my eldest brother uses the other to run errands occasionally. If I truly lost this one, then there's no guaranty that I would have a horse to use when I need to." He pauses as he shakes his head, "I don't have the best history with horses. Fu will probably think I did this on purpose, and then I'll never get another one."

"Hey, with how much you could earn by working with me, I doubt you will ever have money problems again."

Yong ignores the man, "I thought I tied it. I know that I was in a hurry, but I was sure that I had tied it correctly."

Qiang suggests, "If we leave now, then maybe we will see it on the way to the inn."

Yong nods, "Okay, but I'll have to walk. You can ride your horse and I'll meet you there."

Qiang shakes his head, "No. Just ride with me. It will be faster."

"I like my space. Two miles isn't much. I can walk."

The man replies, "I insist you ride with me. The night will be near an end if you get there on foot. We can earn more money if we ride there together."

Yong gives in, "Fine. I'll ride with you."

Qiang smiles, "I think you're really going to like the place." as they mount the horse. "There's a variety of drinks, a lot of idiot gamblers, and—"

Yong interrupts, "Let's just head out already, before I decide to dismount and walk home." so they continue on without another word.

* * *

\- When I first wrote this I had the guy's name written as "Ru", but when I edited it I realized that would be his family name... even if he did make it up himself, the rules to names still apply. Why the last name comes first, I have no idea. I don't even know if it's accurate to the language. All I know is that in the movie their last name would always be addressed first; therefor, I have their family name listed first as well. Sorry if there's any remaining mistakes.


	62. A Winner's Losses

\- Would you totally hate me if I just left you to read the text below? That's how it came out when I originally copied and pasted the chapter, but don't worry. There's a more readable copy in the section below it, although the font and size might still oddly change from one sentence to the next. Sorry about this. It's just one of the many fun things that comes with the territory of writing.

* * *

p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center; line-height: 150%;" align="center"strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"July 10th (Day 15, After Midnight)/span/strong/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /span/span/strongspan style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';""You did well tonight," comments Ru Qiang as he breaks Yong's profits into thirds./span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanYong looks over the three piles of copper and silver coins in confusion, "I thought I was just splitting the profits with you." as one pile is slid over to him. "Why was it split into thirds?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanThe man takes out two coin-pouches and puts the piles into them, "As you work for me, I work for another as well. The third pile is for him."/span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /span"Oh. I see," Yong frowns, having already imagined what to with the money during the games./span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanQiang takes a couple tael from one of the pouches, "Don't worry about the current losses. The money you do earn will add up over time." He sees Yong slightly nod his head, and he smiles, "Hey. How about I get you a drink? You deserve it."/span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanYong gives a suspicious look before whispering, "You know you're not my type, right?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanQiang laughs, "Don't worry. I have a very beautiful wife at home. This is only business."/span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /span"Yeah," Yong replies with narrowing eyes, "That's what the woman from the alley said."/span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanHe shakes his head, "I'm no prostitute. When I say this is business, I mean that you're working for me and on a profitable night like this I may like to award your loyalty. You don't know how many men just take what's not theirs."/span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanYong nods, "Okay. Yeah, I see that." and smiles. "Get me the drink." He watches as the man stands, but then he remembers the word that didn't make sense, "Wait." His employer looks down at him in wonder. "What's a prostitute?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanThe employer laughs but doesn't reply as he leaves the young man in confusion. He walks across the big room and stands by the bar, before he whispers to an older man, "How's your son?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanThe older man frowns, "You know how he is. I did what you asked. Where's my money?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /span"That depends," comments Qiang. "Where's the horse?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /span"It's tied up in the storage shed, just like you asked. Now. Where's my money?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanHe takes some money from the pouch and hands it to the man, "I hope your son gets well." The man pushes by with hate and in a hurry, before Qiang hands the two silver coins to the bartender, "I have a new associate. Give us something tasteful."/span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanWhen he's given the two larger cups, the employer returns to the table and gives one of the drinks to his new worker, "Now, don't swallow this. It has taste, so enjoy it."/span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanYong gives the drink a curious look, before he takes a shocking sip and his eyebrows rise, "What is this?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanQiang watches as Yong takes a large sip, "It's jasmine tea mixed with baijiu."/span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /span"I love it," Yong grins as he takes another drink. "It actually has like a taste."/span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /span"I'm glad you like it," the employer smiles, but he notices Yong frown at the sight of a young girl being slapped halfway across the room./span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /span"What was that?" Yong asks in worry of the dark-brown haired girl./span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /span"This bar has /spancourtesans." He pauses to look for himself, "The merchant's son is in charge of keeping the girls in line, but if you ask me he expects too much and angers too easily at the lack of profit." He takes a sip from his own drink, "He should understand that not all come here for that."/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanYong puts a hand to his head, "I shouldn't be here."/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /span"Don't let it bother you. Just because the son's actions are bad doesn't mean the place is bad."/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanYong takes a worried breath, "No. My sister. Her suitor came last night. I shouldn't have been here. I shouldn't have even left."/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanQiang questions, "Does she not have a mother?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /span"No, she does," responds Yong before he gulps down the rest of the drink and takes a breath. "It's just that I should have been there for her. What if she needed someone to talk to? What if she wanted her hair braided? She doesn't like the way Mother does it."/span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanQiang grins, "I'm sure your sister is fine. You should just relax and settle down. You can enact the duties of a mother once you have your own daughter."/span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanYong smiles, "Shut up." before he reaches for his drink, only to realize that it's empty./span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /span"Here. Have mine."/span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /span"Thanks," Yong replies as he takes the nearly full cup. He looks at the pale-yellow drink in thought, "You know, it wouldn't actually be that bad, to have a daughter. I could braid her hair, teach her how to sew and cook, and make sure she knew she was beautiful and perfect as she is."/span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanQiang sees the look on Yong's face, "What's the problem?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /span"Nothing," Yong responds as he takes a big drink. "It's just that she will already have a mother, and fathers aren't supposed to those things. All they do for their daughter is choose a suitor, which is fine; I mean, I would want to make sure my daughter is being treated fairly." He shakes his head, "But that's all they're able to do." before he takes another drink. "It doesn't matter, I guess. I could just have a son. I'm good at sparring and literacy, and those things can be enjoyable depending on my mood." He takes another drink, "Although, I have to admit that raising a miniature me would be kind of scary." /span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanQiang looks over his sad associate, "You'd rather have a daughter."/span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanYong smiles, "Yeah, but sons own property, so I'd be encouraged to have one of those anyway if the first wasn't." He pauses as he lifts his drink, "You know, I'm getting married this summer."/span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /span"Really," comments his employer with surprise. "To who?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanYong shrugs, "I didn't think it was important." He finishes the drink, "It's not like I'll like them anyway. I just hope she won't mind my lack of affection."/span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /span"You know, you can be affectionate to other people too. Friends and family show affection. You don't have to like her to, well, like her."/span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /span"Perhaps," Yong mumbles. "But if I've learned anything from my parents, it's that a woman will always want more than an uninterested man is willing to offer."/span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanThe employer pauses, unsure of what to say, "It's getting late. How about we get you a room?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanYong nods, "Yeah. Some sleep would be nice right now." /span/p  
p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: 35.45pt; line-height: 150%;"span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"When they stand Qiang leads Yong into a smaller room near the stairs, before they pay and Yong goes up to find the room. He's surprised to see it's nicely decorated, but he's even more surprised by the thick, warm blanket as he falls asleep./span/p

* * *

 **July 10th (Day 15, After Midnight)**

"You did well tonight," comments Ru Qiang as he breaks Yong's profits into thirds.

Yong looks over the three piles of copper and silver coins in confusion, "I thought I was just splitting the profits with you." as one pile is slid over to him. "Why was it split into thirds?"

The man takes out two coin-pouches and puts the piles into them, "As you work for me, I work for another as well. The third pile is for him."

"Oh. I see," Yong frowns, having already imagined what to with the money during the games.

Qiang takes a couple tael from one of the pouches, "Don't worry about the current losses. The money you do earn will add up over time." He sees Yong slightly nod his head, and he smiles, "Hey. How about I get you a drink? You deserve it."

Yong gives a suspicious look before whispering, "You know you're not my type, right?"

Qiang laughs, "Don't worry. I have a very beautiful wife at home. This is only business."

"Yeah," Yong replies with narrowing eyes, "That's what the woman from the alley said."

He shakes his head, "I'm no prostitute. When I say this is business, I mean that you're working for me and on a profitable night like this I may like to award your loyalty. You don't know how many men just take what's not theirs."

Yong nods, "Okay. Yeah, I see that." and smiles. "Get me the drink." He watches as the man stands, but then he remembers the word that didn't make sense, "Wait." His employer looks down at him in wonder. "What's a prostitute?"

The employer laughs but doesn't reply as he leaves the young man in confusion. He walks across the big room and stands by the bar, before he whispers to an older man, "How's your son?"

The older man frowns, "You know how he is. I did what you asked. Where's my money?"

"That depends," comments Qiang. "Where's the horse?"

"It's tied up in the storage shed, just like you asked. Now. Where's my money?"

He takes some money from the pouch and hands it to the man, "I hope your son gets well." The man pushes by with hate and in a hurry, before Qiang hands the two silver coins to the bartender, "I have a new associate. Give us something tasteful."

When he's given the two larger cups, the employer returns to the table and gives one of the drinks to his new worker, "Now, don't swallow this. It has taste, so enjoy it."

Yong gives the drink a curious look, before he takes a shocking sip and his eyebrows rise, "What is this?"

Qiang watches as Yong takes a large sip, "It's jasmine tea mixed with baijiu."

"I love it," Yong grins as he takes another drink. "It actually has like a taste."

"I'm glad you like it," the employer smiles, but he notices Yong frown at the sight of a young girl being slapped halfway across the room.

"What was that?" Yong asks in worry of the dark-brown haired girl.

"This bar has courtesans." He pauses to look for himself, "The merchant's son is in charge of keeping the girls in line, but if you ask me he expects too much and angers too easily at the lack of profit." He takes a sip from his own drink, "He should understand that not all come here for that."

Yong puts a hand to his head, "I shouldn't be here."

"Don't let it bother you. Just because the son's actions are bad doesn't mean the place is bad."

Yong takes a worried breath, "No. My sister. Her suitor came last night. I shouldn't have been here. I shouldn't have even left."

Qiang questions, "Does she not have a mother?"

"No, she does," responds Yong before he gulps down the rest of the drink and takes a breath. "It's just that I should have been there for her. What if she needed someone to talk to? What if she wanted her hair braided? She doesn't like the way Mother does it."

Qiang grins, "I'm sure your sister is fine. You should just relax and settle down. You can enact the duties of a mother once you have your own daughter."

Yong smiles, "Shut up." before he reaches for his drink, only to realize that it's empty.

"Here. Have mine."

"Thanks," Yong replies as he takes the nearly full cup. He looks at the pale-yellow drink in thought, "You know, it wouldn't actually be that bad, to have a daughter. I could braid her hair, teach her how to sew and cook, and make sure she knew she was beautiful and perfect as she is."

Qiang sees the look on Yong's face, "What's the problem?"

"Nothing," Yong responds as he takes a big drink. "It's just that she will already have a mother, and fathers aren't supposed to those things. All they do for their daughter is choose a suitor, which is fine; I mean, I would want to make sure my daughter is being treated fairly." He shakes his head, "But that's all they're able to do." before he takes another drink. "It doesn't matter, I guess. I could just have a son. I'm good at sparring and literacy, and those things can be enjoyable depending on my mood." He takes another drink, "Although, I have to admit that raising a miniature me would be kind of scary."

Qiang looks over his sad associate, "You'd rather have a daughter."

Yong smiles, "Yeah, but sons own property, so I'd be encouraged to have one of those anyway if the first wasn't." He pauses as he lifts his drink, "You know, I'm getting married this summer."

"Really," comments his employer with surprise. "To who?"

Yong shrugs, "I didn't think it was important." He finishes the drink, "It's not like I'll like them anyway. I just hope she won't mind my lack of affection."

"You know, you can be affectionate to other people too. Friends and family show affection. You don't have to like her to, well, like her."

"Perhaps," Yong mumbles. "But if I've learned anything from my parents, it's that a woman will always want more than an uninterested man is willing to offer."

The employer pauses, unsure of what to say, "It's getting late. How about we get you a room?"

Yong nods, "Yeah. Some sleep would be nice right now."

When they stand Qiang leads Yong into a smaller room near the stairs, before they pay and Yong goes up to find the room. He's surprised to see it's nicely decorated, but he's even more surprised by the thick, warm blanket as he falls asleep.


	63. To Be Noticed

**July 10th (Day 15, After Dawn)**

"Hey," Shang says, as he leaves the tent and sees Ping by the fire.

He turns his head around, "Oh. Hey."

Shang sees the collected berries, "What is this?"

Ping stammers, "I just wanted to get you something." He sees Shang give a questioning look, before he bends his head back down towards the small pile of berries, "I know you like meat more, but I had a hard time pulling the bow all the way back." He attempts a sad smile, "And animals don't really like the sight of weapons."

Shang takes the berries into his hand, "It's fine. I appreciate the gesture." but he smiles with amusement at the small portion. "I was actually thinking about us going to the village."

"The village," responds Ping with unsureness.

"Yeah." Shang's smile fades, "I thought you would want to."

"Yeah. I did," Ping pauses as he wraps the sleeves around his hands. "It's just— After Cain—" He hesitates, "What if people notice?"

"What do you mean?"

Ping nearly laughs from the fear, "What if they find out? I mean, I'm not perfect."

Shang takes a second to respond, "Don't worry about it. You've lasted a long time without anyone noticing before; if this is who you really are, then you have nothing to hide."

"Are you kidding me," Ping nearly interrupts. "I have everything to hide."

Shang takes a relaxing breath. _I don't see why they're so worried. If he lasted three years at camp, they can last a couple days in a village._ "What would you have to hide?"

Ping lets out a breath of disbelief, "I may be dressed as a guy, Shang, but physically—" He loses his words and continues with new ones, "I'm not perfect. What if someone notices something?"

"Don't worry." Shang touches Ping's shoulder, "There's nothing to notice."

"Really," questions Ping in doubt. "I know my outfit covers many things, but what about hips? That's not something that can be easily hidden."

"What hips?" Shang questions with near anger at the suggestion, as he observes the very thin person. "You have none."

Ping looks away and crosses his arms in his lap to pitch the side Shang won't see, "You're just being nice."

"I'm not being nice," Shang nearly shouts, but he takes a deep breath when Ping looks back in shock. "I would understand if you'd rather just go home." He sees Ping about to speak, "You don't have to go to the village if you think it's not a good idea, but I'm due for some real food and socialization." He puts the handful of berries in his mouth and eats them, "We can't just hide out here forever."

Ping almost smiles, "We've been using a fire. Someone found us yesterday. I don't think we've been hiding."

"Yes, we have," Shang insists. "We've been hiding from your parents." He sees Ping look to the ground in thought, "I understand why, but I have a life. I want you to be a part of it, but we can't just hide out in the woods forever."

"It wouldn't be forever," Ping whispers. He takes a shallow breath before looking up, "Fine. We can go to the village."

Shang smiles, "Thank you."

Ping slightly shakes his head, "Don't thank me. You have a life, and I do want to be a part of it."

Shang grabs his hand, "We can spend the day here, but I want us in the village before the sun sets." Ping only nods with an apparent frown, and he stares into the fire as Shang leaves with the bow.

* * *

\- If you can pinch it, you can lose it. Or so people say... It's such a bad saying. I can pinch my nose too, but that doesn't mean it should be gone.


	64. Cuckoo Bird

**July 10th (Day 15, Early Afternoon)**

The walk home was long, and even though Yong's feet ached it was the stares that bothered him most. It was almost like people knew, that they had known his treachery against his eldest brother, sister, and overall family. Little did he know in a way they did; his brother had spent the later part of the night and a small amount of that midmorning looking for his ill brother, but no one could point the magistrate to where he would be.

When Yong returned home he had come in through the back, entering the sitting room, thinking his family may be eating in the dining room, but he's surprised to see his brother anxiously leave his study with either seriousness or anger in his eyes. "There you are. Where were you?"

"Why?" Yong questions with a hurt smile. "Afraid something happened?"

"Yes, in fact," Fu takes a step closer. "I was afraid something could've happened to you." Yong's smile fades, as his brother takes a few more steps into the sitting room. "You were sick, and you just left into the cold. You could've gotten worse."

Yong hears the yelling but does little to respond, "Well. I'm fine now."

"You're lucky. You could've gotten worse."

"Exactly. I could have gotten worse," Yong nearly yells, but he continues with nonchalance and a bored expression. "But staying here wouldn't have helped anything."

"And you thought going to a bar would?" Li Fu sees his brother's even expression, "I know you stole the tael. The pouch was turned the wrong way."

Yong almost laughs, "The pouch was turned wrong. What? Do you also count every coin every day as well?"

"Actually, yes, but that's beside the point."

Yong's non-laugh had kept his mouth open, "Then what is, then?"

The elder brother opens his mouth to speak, but a newer thought prevents the first from being asked, "When you steal from family, you're only stealing from yourself."

Yong looks at the magistrate in disbelief, "Oh. Now it's our money. Is that why I have to resort to ridiculous and unreliable things in order to pay for things? Is that why I'm being married off to what you called a less privileged family?"

Li Fu takes a breath, "The family will be good for you. Trust me."

"Trust you?" Yong loudly comments, before his expression goes blank and his eyes narrow. "How could I possibly trust you when you've clearly never trusted me?"

The magistrate shakes his head, "We're family. We need to be able to trust each other."

The younger brother laughs a breath, "Yeah. Right." and continues with apparent anger. "You've never trusted me. To you I'm just like the cuckoo bird, aren't I?" He sees his brother about to speak but continues anyway, "I'm the son of a lowlife, and I've proven to be one haven't I? Just like the cuckoo bird I was nested into a better environment at expense of the young who already lived there, and because I'm such a lowlife that doesn't dress or behave the way a first-class man should I just leave the family in ruin. After all of the help this nest has given me, I will be the cause of its destruction— your destruction. Isn't that what you think?"

"No. That's not what I think." Li Fu sees the tear that had slipped from Yong's unblinking eyes, "You're our mother's son. That makes you my brother."

"Perhaps," Yong replies in a crackly voice, "but I'm still a bastard." Yong watches as his brother shuts his eyes and shakes his head, as he typically does when he tries to rationalize something.

When the magistrate's eyes open he responds, "It doesn't matter that you're not Father's son. The village thinks you are, and you two have always behaved like father and son." He looks away for a brief moment and mutters, "You may have even been his favorite." He looks back and continues, "That makes you a part of this family."

"Right," Yong slowly replies, not believing, before he takes a deep breath and holds it as he wipes the tear away from his cheek. _That's why so many people at the bar thought that drunken idiot was my father._ His voice continues smoothly without the crackly tone or a hint of showing care, "You honestly expect me to believe I belong, when I'm so different."

"You're not that different," Li Fu comments calmly.

Yong almost smiles, "I get drunk, I'm violent, and apparently I dress like a barbarian."

Li Fu interrupts, "I didn't mean it like that.

"How did you mean it, then?"

The magistrate is quiet for a second, "Mother just wanted me to make sure you were okay, and she's asked me to make sure that our family is perceived well."

Yong responds in a bored tone, "Yeah, because perception is all that matters." He prevents tears by smiling, "If one is perceived well, then their greatest flaws can remain hidden to even those closest to him."

The elder brother takes a moment before stating, "You know that if you wanted to confide in someone, I'm always here."

Yong laughs, "What could I possibly have to confide?"

The magistrate shrugs, "I don't know, but I went looking for you." He sees his little brother's look of mixed shock and contemplation, "I knew you would be at the bar, but by the time I had gotten there you had already left. When I asked around people only said that they saw you leave into the alley with a man."

Yong gives a look, "What's your point?"

Li Fu questions, "Did you leave last night only so you could meet up with him?"

"No. I only just met him last night." He sees his brother nod in thought, "I'm having a hard time understanding what this is about."

"Nothing," answers the elder brother. "It's just that you said you've had friends, and I just thought that maybe you would have met up with one since people saw you with him."

"But still," Yong comments in confusion. "I don't understand why I would need to confide you in that." Yong sees his brother's quiet expression, and his mouth drops at the sudden realization of what his brother could have been referring to, "I'm just a normal man."

"I'm sure you are."

"No. I mean it," Yong emphasizes. "I will marry, I will become a scholar, and I will have children. I'm just like any normal man."

Li Fu gives a curious look, "A scholar? I thought you would have included sewing in there somewhere."

Yong looks down, as he remembers his mother's assumption that he would either become a scholar or a warrior, "Men can't be seamstresses." before he turns his head back up to his brother's understanding yet contemplative expression.

"Why not become a soldier? Shang is your brother, and I'm sure he could use the help."

Yong nearly smiles, "I think people would be a little too afraid of the sight of me holding a weapon in order for me to actually teach them anything."

The elder brother tries for a little encouragement, even though he's had worrisome thoughts himself, "You can't know that for sure."

"Actually, I can, because it's already happened."

Li Fu slowly nods, "Well, my offer still stands; if there's anything you'd like to confide in me, then I'm here to hear whatever it is."

Yong gives a stern look, "I told you. I'm normal."

"Yeah. I know," replies the elder brother. "But there's many ways to be normal, and even a normal man has his secrets." He sees Yong's paranoid look, "I just want you to know that if you did have a secret, then I'd be willing to listen."

"And then you can put it in your files, someone could break in, and then every enemy I have would know the perfect way to destroy me."

The magistrate smiles, "You're sixteen. How many enemies could you have?"

"The amount doesn't matter. The people you and your enemies associate with do."

The elder brother almost laughs, "Come on. It can't be that bad. You hardly even socialize at all." He gestures, "I bet you can't even name one enemy you've made."

Yong looks down as the angered man returns to his mind, "Bai Shun."

"Who?" asks the brother in a shocked concern.

Yong pauses, wondering if he should say anything, "Bai Shun." He shakes his head, "You could probably look him up, but I'd rather if you didn't."

"Bai," he mutters the name in thought. "Where do I know that from?" His jaw slightly drops at the realization, "Isn't that the family who owns the teashop down by the Ancestral Hall?"

"Maybe," Yong almost mumbles. _I shouldn't have said anything._

"How could you have made an enemy of him?"

Yong shakes his head, "It's a long story."

"Maybe I should speak with him. It may not be as bad as you think."

"No. Don't!" He sees his brother's need to fix things based upon his expression, "Trust me when I say that meddling in this will only make things worse."

The elder brother shakes his head, "I don't understand. What could you have possibly done to earn him as an enemy?"

Yong looks away, "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters."

Yong interrupts the soon-to-be assertion, "No. It doesn't." The elder brother falls silent. "If he wants to blame me for something that probably would have occurred sooner if I had not been there, then he can. I really don't care. It doesn't matter."

Li Fu takes a moment to respond, "I would believe that you do care, but that's only based on my observation of you."

Yong finds himself without words, so he leaves the pointless conversation and enters into the hallway. He had planned on going to his room, but the sniffly cries stop him.

* * *

\- This chapter may have felt more sad when I first wrote it, even though I didn't change anything; however, just the title of this chapter gets me every time. "Cuckoo Bird" It's just so sad, and I absolutely love it.


	65. Failure

**July 10th (Day 15, Early Afternoon)**

Li lies on her bed with a tear-soaked face and pained expression. "What's going on?"

She sees her brother enter the room with a concerned frown, before she tilts her head down, "He didn't like me."

"Your suitor?" asks Yong as he moves closer. His sister only nods. "I'm sorry." _I should have been here._ "But it happened yesterday. How could you still be crying?"

"Because I failed. I failed the family."

Yong sits down on the opposite end of the bed, "It's not your fault he didn't like you."

"But it is," she insists. "I was restless and even spoke out of turn." She lets out a whimper, "And Mother told me not to speak at all."

Yong looks towards the door-sheet and pictures where their mother would be at that time, before he turns his head away at the thought of his own impending failure, "There are worse things."

"Like what," Li stammers before gulping.

"Like not being interested in having a suitor. Like not wanting one."

Li gives a curious look, "Do you not want one?"

Yong briefly smiles at the idea of picking out a few interesting candidates and then having those guys meet him to show their approval, but then reality hits him and his smile drops into an iffy statement, "Girls make good friends, but as far a marriage goes… I think there's better things."

"Like what?"

 _What could I say? I don't even have an occupation picked, so I can't just tell her I'd rather just focus on that._ He shrugs, "I don't know, but marriage just hasn't seemed very appealing to me." He looks down, "I'd just rather focus on accomplishing something, I guess."

"And you don't think marriage would be an accomplishment?"

Yong takes a second to respond, "Marriage can be a great goal for some, but I just personally don't find it very appealing. When I say I'd rather focus on accomplishing something, I guess what I actually mean is that I want to accomplish something that I could find pride or enjoyment in."

Li nods in understanding, but she stills as she comments, "But you know you will be expected to marry. We're supposed to secure our standings."

Yong nods, "Yeah. I know." but beneath his vague, contemplative expression lurks a clear disdain of the idea.

"What do you have against marriage?"

Yong shakes his head and quickly replies with, "Nothing." but after a second of silence he admits it. "I'm just not sure what I would get out of it."

"You would get a wife," Li tries to answer. "Maybe a new home and a sense a security, a sense that by uniting the families you have become stable."

Yong looks to the floor, "I don't want stability. I just want—" He pauses at the idea of a small house in an area which could keep his private endeavors secret, but as he continues to think it over he just gets a feeling that something would be missing. "I'm not sure what I want, but even if I wanted a sense of security I doubt an arranged marriage would be stable. I just feel like it would be complicated."

"Why?" Li asks in slight confusion. "Arranged marriages are designed specifically to keep families financially secure. How would that be complicated?"

Yong looks away as the truth floods his mind, but after each possible bad scenario runs through it he only replies, "I guess in that sense it wouldn't." He looks back at his sister. "But I didn't come in here to share my insecurities. I came in here for you."

"Right," Li looks down as the crying begins again.

Yong moves in closer to touch her arm, "You have done nothing wrong. You have two more suitors. You haven't failed this family yet."

"But I will," she sniffles. "I know I will." Yong looks around the room, before he stands and moves towards the wardrobe. "What are you doing?"

Yong opens it up and takes out light and dark blue pieces to a dress, along with the light-blue ribbon, "You're still wearing the red dress you had met the suitor in." He lays the pieces in front of her, "You will feel better once you change."

Li picks up the ribbon, "Will you braid my hair too?"

Yong smiles, "Anything for you." before he continues. "I was also thinking that, if you were interested, that maybe I could bring you to the market."

Li smiles with a fix of excitement and fear, "But I've never left the estate."

Yong shrugs, "You're getting married, and I think it's a good idea for you to gain some experience before you do."

She shakes her head, "Mother will never stand for it."

"I wasn't going to ask Mother," Yong smiles. "I was going to ask Fu. I'm sure he would let us. I mean, the market isn't even half a kilometer away, and you are getting married. If he disagrees, then I'll just remind him of that, since it's unlikely that all of your suitors would be as privileged as us and since some husbands expect their wives to go to the market for the household."

Li grins, "So, wait. I'm actually going to be able to leave?" Yong nods, so she squeaks a, "Thank you. Thank you, so much."

Yong laughs, "No problem." and he stands. "I'm going to ask him. If things go well, then we should be able to go to the market this afternoon."

After he leaves, Li stands to change and rushes to the mirror in excitement. She smiles as she pictures her hair in the staircase braid as well. _Yong was right. A change of dress was exactly what I needed._

* * *

\- Not to put down my own work or anything, but I swear these last couple chapters just have had a ton of run on sentences with quotations that were just so oddly placed. I don't know how I ever thought doing" Narration, "Dialog" narration, "Dialog" narration " was ever okay. I had to replace the second comma with a period, and now I'm not sure if the wording even makes sense now.


	66. The Market

**July 10th (Day 15, Mid-Afternoon)**

"Wait. Is that it?" Li grins in amazement.

Yong nods, "Mother has a tendency to think the market is full of parasites and riffraff, but what she fails to notice is all of the hardworking crafters and the large variety of items. I think our market is actually larger than average, if I remember correctly, but that would make sense since our village is just large in general."

As they move closer to the field of stands, Li whispers, "There's a lot of people here."

"I know," Yong mutters as they move through the crowd. "That's always the problem with these things, but if you wish not to draw attention to yourself, then all you need to do is be quiet." Yong realizes his advice is only half true, as he gets looks from several people who had known him from the bar or otherwise. He looks down and whispers, "Come on. I know just the place."

Li follows her brother's quick steps and asks, "Where are we going?" as they move past the farmers and tea growers, the blacksmiths and woodworkers, and stop just beyond the books and paintings of the scholars and artists. It's here that Li smiles with an open mouth, as she tries to catch her breath, and she observes the multiple booths in the area. The tables consist of more clothes, jewelry, and combs and pins than she's ever seen before.

"What do you think?"

Li smiles as she whispers, "It's wonderful."

"Could I interest you in any clothes this afternoon?"

Yong turns around in slight confusion, but then he sees the older woman sitting at the table with her elderly mother. There's a large variety of items, which even manage to include a few dresses and robes made of silk. The grey-haired women comments, "A young, well-dressed man like you could use a spare outfit. You never know when the first will fall apart.

Yong smiles, as he knows too well how easily silk can tear. _I guess it's a good thing I already have a few spare outfits, then._ His thoughts momentarily wander to a time when he accidently wore three different outfits in one week to the rundown bar. _People actually came up with a theory that I was some merchant's defiant son, trying to get out of such a hated class._ "No, thank you. I'm good."

He turns back to his sister as they continue down the path, and when she runs over to a table filled with combs, pins, and jewelry, he slowly walks over there as well. He watches as his sister stares at the bright green pin in amazement, before he asks the seller, "How much?"

The woman takes the hairpin, before the young girl can touch it, "Ten tael."

Yong thinks about haggling the price down, but then he sees the cricket design, "Okay. Sure."

Li looks at her brother with unsureness and embarrassment, "Are you sure you have that much?" She watches as he takes several tael out of the pouch, "You don't have to get it. I was just looking."

Yong exchanges the coins for the pin, "Think of it as an early wedding present." He smiles as he hands it to her, "You won't be able to wear pins until after marriage anyway. Until then you can just hold on to it for good luck."

Li looks at it sheepishly, before she says, "Thank you, Yong." and wraps herself around his torso.

"Yeah, yeah," Yong pulls her off after a second before continuing seriously. "You can't go around telling everyone though. If it's a stranger, they could steal it. If it's Mother or Fu, then they will ask where I got the money from, and I'd rather not let them know the variety of jobs I take."

Li nods seriously, "Okay. I won't tell anyone."

"Good," Yong smiles, before he hears his name being called from down the path. When he looks it's the seamstress's son, apparently helping his mother sell fabric on this bright, sunny day. He shakes his head, before he drags his sister to the table and smiles, "Hello, Ruli. How have you been?"

The son's smile fades, "I've been meaning to apologize for before. It was completely unprofessional of me."

"It's fine," Yong remarks. "You only believed the bored stories of a guard over what should be the respect of the general's brother."

He shakes his head, "I know, and I apologize." Ruli sees Yong's even look, which is really just a disguise for curiosity and a lack of respect, "I talked with my father, and he brought to my attention how foolish it was to cower out of such a brilliant opportunity." Yong nearly smiles. "He said that even if you did take your lessons deathly serious that I should have been proud to learn from the general's family. He would like me to ask you if you would take me back."

Yong laughs, "And what makes you think I'd want anything to do with you." before his smile diminishes at the sight of Yang on the far left side of the group. "What are you doing here?"

It takes a second for Yang to respond, "I was just helping my neighbors."

"Right," Yong scratches his nose and clears his throat. "Well, if that's it, then I guess I should be going."

"No," speaks the seamstress's son in urgency. "You have to take me back. My father has become very disappointed in me; he keeps saying that men were never so cowardice in his day, and I just have to prove him wrong." He pleads, "Please, train me."

Yong shifts his head up, "What's in it for me?"

He turns his head down as the seamstress comments, "I know you told your mother that the fabric you bought before had never been for your use, so I'm not sure if this offer will do you any good, but if you train my son, I would gladly give you two meters of silk free of charge."

Yong takes a deep breath and shakes his head, as he remembers the project he has yet to finish. _What could I possibly do with two new meters? I spent almost an entire tireless week working on what I have, and it's only been half completed. I'll be lucky if I finish it within the next couple weeks, and with my new work I'll probably have more than enough to buy more fabric by then. Silk is only ten tael per meter and I managed to earn more than that in one night._

The elderly woman speaks, "If that isn't enough, then we could always pay you a third meter for your trouble."

Yong shakes his head, "No. Two is fine." but he pauses at the sight of Yang again. "However, on my way here I got several looks, and I was wondering if someone could tell me why."

The rest of the bunch look to Yang, as it had been clear Yong had been asking him, and so he takes a breath before speaking, "They saw you leave the bar with that man last night. Some were speculating whether he could be the new Chang."

"Who's Chang?"

Yong's mouth is still left agape, as he answers, "He's no one." to his sister. He takes a breath before clearing his throat with a desperate smile, "I don't suppose you could clear up some of this nonsense for me? You know, before those ridiculous accusations reach my family."

Yang frowns, "I could try, but you know how that ended last time."

"How did it end last time?" Ruli interrupts.

Yang pauses for a moment, and Yong can tell by the look in his brown-hazel eyes that the hurt he had caused him would not be easily forgotten. "It ended with a knife against my throat."

Yong tries to laugh it off, "It was just a strategy. I wasn't actually going to hurt you."

"Yeah. Tell that to the back of my head."

Yong takes a deep breath as he turns away from the man and continues to Ruli, "If you're still interested in the lesson, I would be happy to take the two meters as payment."

Ruli nods, "I'm not backing out this time."

Yong looks at Li, "Pick out two colors."

"What? Me?" asks the sister in surprise.

"Yes, you," Yong smiles.

Li grins as she speculatively looks over the shiny fabrics, before she gestures to a bright green and a light blue. The seamstress nods with approval, and when Li is handed the two meters she says, "Thank you."

Yong continues to Ruli, "You seem overworked right now, but how about we have the lesson in three days."

"Same time? Same place?" Yong nods. "Alright. I'll be there."

Yong bows his head to the group, before he takes his sister and leaves down the path. "So, who's Chang?"

Yong lets out a breath at the sound of his sister's curiosity, "I told you. He was no one."

"But he had to have been someone," Li insists as they wind past a disorganized cluster of booths.

Yong takes a moment to respond, "He was just a friend." but he's caught off-guard by a table of wool and cotton items.

The man spots him, "Could I interest you in the most comfortable yet durable clothing or the warmest blankets you will ever find anywhere?"

He walks up to the table in amazement, "Is this really..."

His speech slows, so the vendor interrupts, "Yes. I have found luck in some secluded land, and the flat land and fertile soil allows for a surplus in these materials." Yong looks at him in disbelief. "For instance, someone would probably sell a wool blanket or a cotton shirt at thirty tael for their trouble," He holds up the shirt. "But with my luck I'd be happy to sell at half that price."

Yong adverts his eyes from the items, "I can't. I need to keep some coins on hand."

The man with light-brown eyes and sand-brown hair remarks, "Are you sure? Winter will be arriving soon, and you don't want to freeze."

Yong gives a look, trying his best not to spout out all of the reasons why he wouldn't need a blanket. _I've already made my own, and it's not like we don't have a fireplace. Our house actually holds several._ His eyes become stern with annoyance, "I want to save up for my own horse."

"Oh. I see," responds the seller, before he notices the shiny silk and sparkly pin held by the young girl. "What about you? Would you be interested in something today?"

"I have no money."

The man looks over the girl, "I think we could arrange something."

Yong hides her behind him, "That's my sister you're talking to!"

"Oh. Is she?" smirks the man. "Well, in any case, I don't see how that's relevant. If she wants to work a job, that's her business."

The older brother stresses, "We're not that desperate."

"You mean, she isn't, but I'm sure you are."

Yong looks around, but everyone else seems to be in their own world. He whispers, "What do you mean?"

The man continues, "Well. Did you not just say you need to save up for a horse?"

"Yeah," Yong mumbles. "But a good one will cost seventy tael."

The tradesman almost laughs, "I know someone who deals in horses. If you do a job for me, I'm sure we could work something out."

"Yeah. Sorry," Yong sneers. "But I already work for someone." He grabs his sister to leave before the man can say anything more, only mumbling, "Come on. Let's get out of here." as they've already begun to leave the market.

* * *

\- Wow. I actually went there. I don't remember writing about his little sister getting offered a prostitution job. Do I have any limits?... No. Probably not. If it ever comes down to bringing up serious topics or just pretending it doesn't happen, I'd much rather write about the horrible things that happen to people. It's important for people to know about any possible horrible things that could happen, before it happens to them. It can be stopped. (I'm not intentionally saying that the "service" industry or it's workers are bad by any means, but until it's legalized with a code of standards it will remain a dangerous profession.)


	67. The Cover of Night

**July 10th (Day 15, Evening)**

The sun shines glistening white and yellow beams through the light-blue and lavender sky as the sun starts to set, and the cold light peaks through the window to make the table rich with color. Ping looks over the pattern of light-brown, gold, and auburn lines, before he follows one of the lines into the light. The light doesn't feel warm, but it can still be felt; however, it's intangible and only reminds Ping of how things always seem to be just out of reach. He's also reminded of how fake the colors are, as he looks beyond the edge of the light and sees the dead-grey and dull-brown of the table.

"Hey. What's wrong?"

Ping slightly shakes his head, "Nothing. Sometimes I just wonder if anything's real."

"Hey." He looks up to see Shang's urgent expression. "You're real."

"Sometimes I wonder," Ping mumbles as he takes a sip from his cup of water, but the crack near the top too reminds him of how fragile things can be. "Things seem to keep falling apart, as if they weren't even real to begin with."

Shang takes a drink from his own glass, "Things can't fall apart if they're not real."

Ping's silent for a moment, "I guess so."

"Hold on. I'll be back in a minute." Ping watches as Shang goes up to the counter, and Shang asks, "Do you serve any food here?"

The older woman holds an unsure tone, "We have rice and some vegetables. On a rare occasion we may also serve dumplings or eggs."

Shang tries to smile, "I don't suppose you have any meat?"

"Sorry, sir. If you want meat, you will need to visit the merchant's bar down the road."

"Okay," Shang lets out an unhappy breath before attempting another smile. "How about just some rice with cut carrots then?"

The grim woman nods, "That I can do. Wait here."

Shang stands there for several minutes, only glancing at their table every so often to give an apologetic look. _I can't tell if he's annoyed or just sad._

When Shang returns to the table Ping looks at the dish in a mix of disgust and fear, as the raw smell of the rice and slimy, heated carrots are seen, "What's that?"

"Want some," Shang asks as he picks up the chopsticks. Ping holds his breath as he shakes his head, but the smell still makes him feel sick. "Fine. More for me, then."

Ping looks out the window as the land darkens under the dark purple sky, but it still won't be enough to keep his secret safe. _I would risk it if there were less people, but there's too many. I can wait._ He looks back to Shang, who seizes the clumps of rice with the sticks before placing them into his mouth, and then he chews the sticky rice with a satisfied smirk as if he had just accomplished a great feat. _But it accomplishes nothing. It's gross, a waste of time, and only makes things worse._

"This is really good," Shang comments while chewing new clumps of rice. "Are you sure you don't want any," He holds out a slimy carrot with the sticks, and part of the carrot falls from its other half before landing on the table.

"No. Thank you," Ping turns away, wishing it would become darker already. _I could use a good excuse right now._ He looks back to see Shang drop a few of the slippery, white vegetables into his mouth with pleasure, but one falls to his chin and leaves a grimy appearance as it's taken off. _You know, actually, I think it's dark enough._ "I'm just going to use the trench. Can you have a room for us by the time I get back? I just really want to sleep right now."

"Yeah. Sure," Shang responds as he finishes his plate.

Ping rushes outside to use the trench, taking advantage of the cover of night to keep his secret hidden. _I can't take any risks, though. It's always better to do things in a hurry._

* * *

\- This chapter was meant to gross you out. If for some reason it didn't, then I really don't know what to say... Maybe I just didn't use good enough of words, or maybe you just find food to be too good to sympathize with the character regardless of what adjectives are used. Although, I would think that words like 'sticky' and 'slimy' would at least put someone off in any situation.


	68. Progress

**July 10th (Day 15, Early Night)**

"Okay. So, we'll need chicken, soy oil, soy sauce, green onion, garlic, and peppers." Yong lifts the lids off of several porcelain containers, before he comes across the one that's filled with salted meat. "There you are." He puts the lid back on and turns to his sister, who has already placed the rest of the ingredients onto the table. "You found everything fast."

Li sadly shrugs, "I'm afraid it's about all I can do."

"Nonsense," comments Yong, as he takes out a ceramic slab with upturned edges. "Now, the meat's been dried for preservation. Placing it in a mix of soy oil, soy sauce, and if necessary water should help soften it up a bit."

Li watches as her brother starts the mixture, "If we're just trying to soften it, then why not just place it in water? Why use the soy stuff too?"

"Water makes it taste weird. Don't really know why, but I try not to use it if I can." When he finishes the mixture he goes to grab the container of meat and places several pieces of chicken into the mixture. "Could you start cutting the onion?"

The little sister looks around for a knife, before she takes it and comes back to the table, "This?"

Yong briefly looks at the thin, rectangular blade before saying, "Yeah. That should do." as he starts to turn the meat over in the concoction. He glances back at her for a moment and notices how close her hand is to the knife, "Be careful. You want to keep your hand as far away from the blade as you can without losing grip of what you're cutting."

Li nods as she moves her hand to the farthest end of the onion, "Thank you."

"No problem." Yong slides the meat off to the side, before he grabs a knife for himself and begins to cut the peppers. He takes a second to look at his sister again, "For the next onion, make sure to cut it thinner. If you can keep them at a similar size, it should cook better as well."

"Okay."

Yong watches as his sister does a surprisingly good job following his instructions, and he smiles at the fact that even though she's doing it slowly it's very accurate. However, his smile falls when their mother enters the room. She looks over them both with a mix of disappointment and disgust, before she addresses her youngest son, "What do you think you're doing?"

Yong looks around the room in a moment of silence. _I should have known it wouldn't last._ "We were just cooking Kung Pao Chicken." He sees his mother's disapproval, "I thought Li could use the experience."

Li Ya comments in nonchalance, "I can teach my own daughter how to cook." but keeps her stern look. "And you should be the last person teaching her anything."

Yong takes a deep breath, trying to put his own offense to the side, "Mother. She's been doing a fine job, a great job even. This experience has made her better."

"Better," scoffs their mother. "She isn't even holding the knife properly." Yong notices his sister's action frozen, her left hand still holding the knife. "I've spent months, having her watch me cook a few simple things and trying to get her to cut things correctly, but now this experience may have ruined all the progress she's made."

"Who cares what hand she uses so long as she gets the job done," Yong nearly shouts, as he remembers a few select times he had to use both hands in a fight. "If you're in a war, on the ground, and if the only weapon available is closer to your left hand, no one's going to care that you used your left hand to save yourself or your comrades, because you were able to get the job done. The hand used shouldn't matter so long as the job is getting done."

The mother grows quiet, but Yong can tell she has much to say, and she continues with the authoritative power the silence had held, "This is not a war. Those split second decisions to use the improper hand, because the enemy is too close to use the other and still save someone, those decisions don't apply to the world of cooking and bridetry. Bridal duties need to be done properly so that it gives a good impression, and since these things aren't to be rushed, using the wrong hand has no excuse." Yong notices his sister's hand shake, but as she tries to further her distance from the knife, it falls from her grasp and the blade hits the nearby ceramic dish with a screechy clank. Li Ya directs her attention to her daughter, "It looks like we're back to the basics. You will watch me finish this meal." She looks back to Yong, "You've done enough. Get out of here and report to your brother."

Yong takes a few steps, and so does the mother, until they've switched sides. He begins to leave but can't help but remember his sister's upcoming marriage. _She's not going to have enough time._ He turns back around, "Mother." He's given a look, showing that he needs to drop the subject and go, but he finds himself unable to, "I was just going to say, Li is a very active child. She may get more out of this if you let her participate."

The mother's expression is even, but the voice holds nothing but irritation, "Li is a young woman, and women have to be graceful. She can learn the way I'm teaching her, because it's my job to ensure that's she's ready for marriage." She nods to the door, "So, why don't you do what you need to do and just go report to your brother. He'll be needing to speak with you."

"About what?" asks Yong, but his comment is ignored and he's left feeling displaced and inadequate as he leaves the room. He continues through the rooms and hallway, until he reaches his brother's study and opens the cloth.

"May I help you?"

Yong sees several pieces of parchment laid out on the desk, "Mother said you needed to speak to me, but I suspect she just wanted me out of the kitchen."

Li Fu gives a sympathetic smile, "Come. Sit down." Yong does so out of boredom, but the feeling that he's done something wrong has stayed with him. "So, what were you cooking this time?"

Yong looks down as he takes a few small breaths, "Kung Pao Chicken. Li was with me."

The elder brother nods, "It was a nice thing you did, taking her to the market. It seemed like she really enjoyed it."

"Yeah," Yong smiles. "That walk really did her well. I haven't seen her this calm in years." His smile slips, "I heard her suitor disliked her activeness."

Fu nods, "There's no way to know for sure, but that's what Mother suspected after I had told her what happened."

Yong is quiet for a second, "Who's her next suitor."

"Han Laquan."

Yong's eyes widen at the name, "Isn't that the son of that one magistrate that helped you when you were younger?"

Li Fu nods, "He's also Shang's childhood friend." He sees his brother's confusion, "I'm sure you remember how Mother encouraged Shang to come with me, as he would have to be the magistrate if I could not."

Yong nods in remembrance. _I would stay behind with my mother and sister, and it was her trips to see our teacher that led me to make friends with his daughters._ He slightly shakes his head. _Friends I no longer have. Luckily, Li was encouraged to stay at our estate, so I never had to succumb to the embarrassment of her seeing the scholar tell me he didn't trust me with his daughters._ He takes a sad breath, "I remember."

"I hope that his friendship with Shang, along with his father's loyalty to our family, will make him feel obliged to marry Li."

Yong's quiet for a moment, "It sounds like a good idea."

"Now. Come on," Fu jousts. "You see flaws in everything, so where's your criticism? You have to be able to tell me how I can make the idea better."

Yong gives a look, "You know you have a problem, right? Insisting that you can always do better and just always trying to fix things to make them perfect."

"It's only a problem if it's a bad thing, and I find it's been more helpful than anything."

Yong smirks and laughs, "Right. So, keeping things in specific places, counting things every day, and the need to fix every problem you come upon is a good thing?"

"Yes, in fact it is." Li Fu sees his brother's expression fall into disbelief, "But in any case I can tell when there's something wrong, so tell me why you think it's not a good plan."

Yong sits up straighter, "I never said it wasn't good." but the elder brother doesn't move. "But if you insist on me poking a hole in your plan, there's something that you can't fix."

"And what would that be?"

Yong forgets his stature as his own preferences come to mind, and he slowly speaks as he's hesitant to bring anything similar up, "I know when it comes to arranged marriages that people can't be very particular, but he's a magistrate so he may have other options." He pauses for a moment, but his elder brother just keeps his hands folded and remains still. "People do have preferences, whether it be the build, voice, or eye color of a person. He may not like how Li looks, and if he already has someone he's physically attracted to, then he may just choose her, even if she doesn't come from the very best family or title."

Li Fu keeps quiet for a second of thought, "You're right."

"I am?" _I thought he would say looks don't matter in arrangements._

The brother nods, "People do have preferences, and there's no guarantee that our title or his family's loyalty to ours will be greater than those preferences."

Yong's quiet for a minute, before he hesitates to ask, "You never talk about your plans, your marriage, or goals. Do you have any preferences?"

The magistrate smiles as he leans back in the chair, "Ah, well, I do like lighter hair, but it would be better if she could sing." He straightens up as his smile slips, "I just feel like a big place like this could get lonely, you know. If my wife could hum a song, then maybe the place wouldn't seem so desolate and bleak."

Yong nods but doesn't speak, so the brother continues with a nod, "What about you? Do you have any preferences I should know about?"

"Ah, what? Me?" Yong sits up straight at the sudden question and takes a few stress-relieving breaths, "I mean, I just thought I didn't have a choice in this. Like, you've already chosen my bride, haven't you?"

Li Fu nods, "And I meant it when I said the family will do you good, but I thought I should ask just to get a better picture of you." He smiles, "I'm sure you asked me the question for the same reasons and that you weren't just trying to be my matchmaker."

Yong grins, "Ah, yeah, no. I'm definitely not a matchmaker."

Li Fu sees his brother's embarrassment, "So, if you don't mind me asking, what are your preferences?" He sees Yong become still as his smiles falls and cheeks fill with color.

"Um, well. I do like eyes, like especially the hazel-brown type, but I'm also fine with grey, and sometimes green or blue eyes as well."

The older brother nods, "Anything else?"

A picture of Chang enters his mind, and he feels his face become warmer as he remembers the strength he had over him. _It was nice, even though his strength was nothing against my skill in the end._ "No. Of course, not," Yong mutters as he gulps down the pang of the memory.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Are we finished?"

Li Fu observes his brother for a moment before nodding, "Yeah. We're finished." and he watches Yong leave the room, only wishing he could help and make things better.

* * *

\- So, just a slightly annoying thing I'm going to comment on, just so you all can laugh at my misery. When I was editing this I saw that the word "mixture" was in the same paragraph twice, so I went through and tried to pick out a better synonym for it; however, only a paragraph or two later the word I had picked out to make it less redundant showed up again!... So, I just returned it back to how it was originally written. Ugh. I hate editing. You just put in so much effort to make it better, sometimes only to realize that there was no point in it at all. Hey, but what can you do? (As a side note, you see that word up there "saw"? Yeah. Well, when I reread this I realized I wrote it backwards. So, yeah. Editing is still very necessary.)


	69. The Perfect Life

**July 10th (Day 15, Early Morning)**

Yong watches as the young, black haired girl cuts the vegetables almost perfectly, "You're doing a good job at this."

"Thank you," the girl responds, as she switches from the green onion to the garlic. "I like doing this. We should do this more often."

Yong smiles, "You've cooked with me three times already this week." before he begins to cut the peppers. "Between the cooking and sewing lessons, your father may think you like me more." He sees her slicing slow down, "Wouldn't you like to spend some more time with him?"

She stays quiet as she finishes the garlic, "He's gone a lot."

Yong remembers the often absences of his own father, and his smile slips as he finds himself needing to justify it, "He's a busy man. He works hard to take care of us."

"But what about you, the work you do." Yong sees the attentiveness in her light-grey eyes. "You make items to sell, tutor children. Sometimes you even help your brother."

Yong finishes the peppers and looks for the pot, "Believe it or not, Lida, what I do isn't enough to keep your father here." He takes a long, deep breath as he brings the pot back to the table, "I can't seem to ever do enough to keep him here." and he begins to mix several ingredients into a sauce.

"I'm sorry, Daddy."

Yong takes a soft, calming breath, before he looks down at the young girl. Her light-grey eyes appear like the moon as they shine with tears, and Yong places a hand on her shoulder, "It's alright. None of this is your fault." He takes his hand off to add the vegetables in with the sauce, "Your father just gets busy, but he should be home soon."

"You said that yesterday."

Yong places the sauce carefully above the fire, before he turns around to see Lida's suspicion and concern. There's only silence as he takes a few steps and kneels down to her level, "You're a smart girl." He swipes her long hair behind an ear to get a better view of her, "You're so smart and beautiful for your age, but there are things here that you're just too young to understand."

Lida wipes a tear from her eyes, "I just remember how things used to be." and she tries to smile but fails. "I don't remember much, but I remember enough to know things are better now. It's just—" She gulps, "What if things change? What if things change and neither of you want me anymore?"

Yong wraps his arms around her, "That could never happen." but he lets go to look into her eyes. "You are ours, forever and always. Nothing can change that. We love you. You know that."

There's a short pause before his daughter responds with, "Yeah. I know." but it's clear to Yong that she only said it because she felt it was necessary and the only answer.

"Come on. Let's continue cooking. Your father should be back by the time it's done, and when you're both done eating you can help him harvest the vegetables from outside."

"If he comes back."

"Don't worry. He will." Yong sees the child's doubt and hesitance to speak, but all he can do is check the meat to see if it's soft enough to add to the sauce.

There's silence for a short time, until Yong places the meat into the sauce and the young girl speaks, "How can you be so sure he'll come back?"

Yong stirs the sauce and keeps his eyes away, "Because he always does." but as he realizes he had the same thoughts about his own father his stirring slows. _There's no guarantee. He may leave. He may already be gone._ He turns back to the grey eyed girl, "Don't worry. Everything will be fine."

* * *

\- Yes. This is a dream sequence. It's part one of... is it two or three? Never mind. We'll find out when we get there, but I must say I really do love Yong's dreams/nightmares... although, I may or may not have said that before already.


	70. Destruction of Mistakes

**July 11th (Day 16, Morning)**

"Look. I've told you everything."

"Why did she leave without you," the head ancestor nearly interrupts.

Mushu raises his arms as if he were trying to catch the answers from the air, "I don't know why. It's just—" He takes a frustrated breath as tears build up in his eyes, "One minute she was in her room slashing through her clothes, and then the next she was gone." He shakes his head, "She said she would run away, but I didn't actually think—"

"Exactly. You weren't thinking," commented the beheaded spirit, and Mushu looks behind himself to see the specter. "You never think. That's why I'm dead." He grumbles, "I wouldn't be surprised if Mulan ended up the same way."

Fa Heng looks down upon the youngest spirit, "Leave us. This conversation has nothing to do with you, and I, as the oldest spirit here, need to find the answers."

Fa Thang turns around and mumbles, "Yeah. You self-righteous…"

The oldest ancestor hears the beginning, but as the rest trails off he ignores it before returning to the small guardian, "Do you know where she could be?"

The dragon shakes his head, "No. I have no idea." He looks down at the stone floor, "She just said she'd figure it out. I don't even think she had her own plan, and after I had tried to convince her to stay—"

Heng interrupts, "You said that she said she only needed a break."

"And that is what she said," insists Mushu. "And really, when you think about it, it's not like she could be gone for long. It wouldn't be possible for her earn money or stay at a public place all by herself."

"Except that she's not by herself, is she," responds the ancestor as he crosses his arms. "That general went with her."

"Yes. He did," sniffles Mushu.

The ghost shifts his head, "What? You think she won't come back?"

"Don't you?" It's quiet as the spirit doesn't answer, and Mushu tries to steady his breathing but finds it harder each time the memory is played. "I'm just so worried for her."

"You would be crazy not to be," comments Heng. "An unmarried woman roaming around with someone who legally should have killed her— and with such a low amount of coins."

Mushu slightly shakes his head, "Ah, and she was dressed as a guy when she left." as he tries to stop crying.

"Just another reason to be worried," responds the ancestor with a mixed look of nonchalance and clarity. "If she gets found out— If someone figures it out or sees her, she could get seriously hurt."

"Assuming she doesn't hurt herself first," mumbles Mushu.

The head ancestor straightens up as he moves in closer, giving Mushu the most serious look he's ever seen, "What do you mean by that?"

Mushu shakes his head, not reacting with anything more than a frown, "It's nothing. Just some dream I had."

Heng squints his eyes, not believing what he's seeing, "What was this dream about."

Mushu shakes his head again in attempt to not relive the memory, "It wasn't much. She was just alone, and she had a knife held up to herself."

"What type of knife was it," questions the specter.

"I don't know," responds Mushu in absurdity. "Why does it matter?"

The apparition's blue appearance is tinged with red as he grows angrier, "You know just as well as I do that these dreams of yours have not always been dreams." He sees Mushu squirm, "It's your job to remember what happened so that if this wasn't just a dream, then you can prevent it from happening."

"But I don't remember anything," Mushu nearly cries.

"You have to remember something," yells the ancestor. "Where was she, what was she wearing, what time of day was it?"

"I don't know," Mushu cries with insistence. "She was just holding a dagger up to herself, but I know nothing else."

The spirit pauses, "It was a dagger? Are you sure of that?"

"I don't know," whimpers Mushu. "I swear, I don't remember anything else."

The head ancestor straightens up, and the small dragon is left feeling so insignificant as the spirit hovers tall above him. "If you remember anything else, come back. For now, you're free to leave."

"But I—" Mushu stands up and wipes the tears from his face, as confusion clouds his vacant mind, "Can't I stay here? My pedestal—"

"Will be returned to you when Mulan returns," interrupts the spirit with disdain and disgust, before he sees the dragon's seemly innocent expression. "Do you honestly believe you deserve a place here, when you let Mulan run off and when you can't even remember a dream in which she dies?"

"My dreams aren't always real," fumbles Mushu.

"But they happen enough to be important," continues the head ancestor, as every other ghost in the temple just watches in speechlessness. "You better hope Mulan returns here alive, because if she doesn't, then you will never get your pedestal back ever again." The dragon stares down at the floor in hopelessness. "You better remember what that dream was about." Mushu looks up. "Because if you don't, this family could be in serious trouble."

"I understand," whispers Mushu.

"No. I don't think you do," retorts the ancestor. "If she dies, then the property will soon belong to another family, and if that happens then our stones may be as well as destroyed."

"Pff, and what's so important about those," Mushu relays as he stands tall with his arms crossed, but he feels his smile drop as he suddenly realizes his size and confidence is nothing to the ancestor's height and anger.

"What will happen to us if our stones get smashed is the same that would happen to you if you were smashed in your statue form."

Mushu receives a shiver of horror and offers an apologetic expression, "I didn't realize—"

"Well, now you do," responds the spirit. "So, you better scurry off, remember that dream of yours, and hope Mulan returns home safely, because if she dies before she can get married and provide this family an heir, then we're all dead for good."

Mushu turns around, hoping for a better reaction, but even though there are several expressions, only the decapitated spirit captures his attention, "That's right. We may not even get an afterlife." He shakes his head, "Your misguidance took my life, and now your lack of thought will take all of our afterlives. You just keep messing up, don't you?"

"Don't worry." Mushu turns back around to see the head ancestor smile and lean down towards him. "He will fix this mistake of his, because if Mulan doesn't provide us with an heir, then I will turn him back into stone and he can be destroyed with the rest of us."

* * *

\- Dark much?


	71. The End of the Dream

**July 11th (Day 16, Noon)**

Yong sits in the very dim sitting room, and he finds his thoughts silent as he fabricates a blanket within the lantern's light. Around the edges of the room it's dark, and the hallway is just as invisible as a strong wind rolls through the trees. Yong looks up, as a creak enters a shivering blast of cold and a silhouette of a man appears in the doorframe of the room. Yong stands in high-hopes, but it's coated with disbelief, and his work falls forgotten to the floor, "You're here."

The man takes a few steps forward, and his grey eyes glow in the light, "Yeah. I am."

Yong sees the frown on Chang's face, and his grateful smile slips, "How was your visit?"

Chang shifts and peaks around, as if there were a spy amongst them, "She's ill, Yong."

He looks at the floor for a moment, "She's asked again, hasn't she?"

"She wants me to marry, have kids. She needs to know that I will be fine and that our property will stay within the family line."

"What about us," Yong whispers. Chang only responds with a turn of his head, so Yong continues, "She knows about us. Why not have us be the family line?"

"Because," Chang answers sternly, "as much as we've gone through we're not really family."

Yong sadly laughs, "You want to tell our daughter that or should I?"

"She's not our daughter," Chang snickers as if it were an absurd idea. "She's just some orphan you found who just so happened to have my eyes and your hair, and since black hair is extremely common I'd say it was just some foolish pursuit of yours and not some sign for me to stay."

"So, that's it," Yong grins in disbelief, but he continues in a louder tone. "You're just going to leave, after everything?"

"How long did you actually think this could last?" Yong stays quiet, as he remembers there had been no confirmation of Chang's love for him, and he finds himself staring across at the black and red quilt hung over the distant chair. "You had to have known this could never be. The law would never allow my property to become our property."

"Perhaps not," Yong shakily replies, as several short breaths accompany a burning sensation in his eyes. "But if you had signed for Lida, then the property could have become hers after marriage."

"Like I'd ever sign for Lida as a daughter when her parents may be an enemy of the both of us, when her parents could have been anything from a courtesan to a merchant or even an outsider."

"It's not like she was the daughter of Shan Yu," Yong nearly yells.

"How do you know that? You don't," Chang retorts in skepticism. "All you know is that Shang said he took care of the body and its remains, but you didn't actually see anything for yourself."

Yong shrugs, "Why should I not trust the general's word of what happened in the imperial city at the emperor's palace in front of hundreds of people?"

"Because, whether you want to believe it or not, your brother is a poor excuse for a general and the emperor is as unpredictable as they come. And what's with the timing of all this? In order to find where his soldier lived, wouldn't he had to have followed him home?"

"He could have asked someone."

"Or maybe your entire family is a mess and you just don't want to see it." Yong's quiet for a moment, but as he opens his mouth to speak Chang continues. "It's probably best I leave you while I still can. And actually, with your family's mess, I should have left a long time ago."

Yong takes a few steps forward, "You're not leaving us. You can't."

"Who? You and your, um," he chortles at the circumstances. "Daughter?"

Yong takes a few more steps and grips onto Chang's shoulders, "Please. Don't leave. Stay with me. Stay with us." He hears Chang grunt in annoyance. "Isn't this the perfect life? We live in a semi-secluded area, a small piece of land of our own. We have a cozy house and a daughter, and we work the jobs we want to work." He moves one of his hands down to feel Chang's strong arms, and he misses the nights in which he would be held, "We have each other. What more could you ask for?"

"I'm sorry, but if my mother's dying wish is for me to marry, then I will marry."

"I'm sorry too," Yong whispers has his head had rested on Chang's shoulder, but then he sees himself from a distance, and he watches himself continue to speak. "But you can never leave me." He sees himself embracing Chang and then notices a knife slide out of his sleeve.

Yong tries to run up to them, hoping to prevent himself from causing such harm, but the faster he runs the farther he seems to be and by the time he reaches the couple it's too late. Chang is lifeless on the floor, and he finds himself holding the reddened dagger in his hand. He looks up and notices the young girl in the doorway, but even though no thoughts surface through his panic, he finds himself saying, "Don't worry. He can't leave us now." However, the words didn't feel like his. He knows they had to have been, and the horrified look on the girl's face verifies that, but he had no control over it.

"Yong?"

He turns around and sees his eldest brother coming in past the sheet of a doorway, a doorway he had sworn was not there before. "What are you doing?"

"I thought you would want lunch."

"Lunch," Yong comments in confusion, but he brushes it off. "I already cooked dinner, and lunch happens during day."

"It is day."

Yong turns away from his still brother, before he looks out the window, "If it's day, then why is it so dark?"

"Maybe because your eyes are closed."

Yong manages to open his heavy eyelids, but his vision is cross-eyed and he doesn't keep them open long enough for it to correct itself. He did manage to glimpse his brother in front of a very bright white of light, but Yong only manages to say, "My eyes aren't closed." as he turns over and pictures Chang dead on the floor.

Li Fu stays quiet for a minute, but he speaks when it becomes clear that Yong isn't waking up, "So, what are you dreaming about?"

"I'm not dreaming. I was arguing."

"With who?" asks the brother in interest.

It takes a second for Yong to respond, "He wanted to leave me." and in the dream he examines the knife closely. "I killed him."

Li Fu's smile fades, "Don't worry. It's just a dream."

"No. It's not," responds Yong as he realizes the knife is the same one from the alley. "I killed him, and he tried to kill me. He wanted to leave me for some real family." His eyes briefly open to release a tear, but then he shuts them again.

The elder brother places a hand on Yong's arm, "Clearly, you're still tired, so this is a little hard to follow, but if you'd like to talk later, when you're more awake, then I'd be happy to." He feels his brother shake, so he finds the somewhat fallen black and red quilt and pulls it back over him. "If you wake up soon lunch will still be available, but if not then there's always dinner."

Yong doesn't speak, but after his brother leaves Yong tries to open his eyes. The salt had almost glued his eyelashes shut, and it takes him a couple times to fully open them, but after he does he's able to look through the bag beside his bed. He takes out the ceramic bottle and takes a large sip, before he closes it, sets it back down, and continues to sleep.

* * *

\- I'm too tired to appreciate the work I put into this chapter.


	72. Old Friends

**July 11th (Day 16, Evening)**

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"It looks like you're exercising," Shang comments as he takes a few small steps closer.

"More like stretching, really."

"You're doing pushups," remarks the general, wondering how after all this time someone could still confuse one with the other.

"I wish I could do more than just a few real pushups," Ping interjects as he finishes the knee-pushups and sits on the bed. "I just need to work harder and work up to it, I guess."

 _Or you could just eat something for once._ "How about you take a break and come down with me, have some dinner."

"I'm not really hungry," Ping excuses without thinking.

"You haven't eaten in two days."

Ping shakes his head, "But I feel fine, better than fine."

"But you're not fine or else you wouldn't be saying these things."

Ping gives him an irritated look, "Whose side are you on?"

Shang takes a deep, fast breath, "I'm just trying to help." He sees Ping about to speak, "Did it ever occur to you that the reason why you're so weak is because you don't eat?"

"I do too eat, Shang."

"Not as much as you should," he nearly yells. "And certainly not as much as when you were in the army."

"In the army it didn't matter as much." He takes a soft breath, "There I came to realize that all of the exercise we were doing was doing enough, that it didn't matter if I had one or sometimes even two meals a day. So long as I was careful, nothing would happen."

"That can't be what this is all about." He sees Ping about to counter the statement, so he explains, "I understand fear, and it can be powerful." He pauses a moment, glancing at the floor, before his eyes meet the soldier again, "But I've never seen anything like this before. I've never seen fear overbear someone so much as to ignore their human instinct for basic survival."

Ping folds his hands and twists his sleeves, "That's all I do, Shang, is try to survive."

The general shakes his head, "I understand, and I'm sure that's what you think, but there has to be more to this. Most people would give into hunger. In my experience a person's fear diminishes once a physical need to survive occurs. So, tell me, how do you do it? How do you ignore such an instinct?"

Ping slightly shrugs, "It's not that hard." He bites the inside of his lip, but his next words escape anyway, "It's actually nice sometimes." He looks up, seeing something of an alarm in the general's expression. Whether it be fear, guilt, or sadness, he can't be sure. He turns his head back down towards the floor, "There's this feeling, like your mind is so clear that it's as if the world doesn't exist beneath your feet. You're just connected to everything, it seems like almost everything is able to be understood perfectly, and yet you don't have many thoughts of your own." He laughs with a sad pang, knowing this is bad and that he should feel guilty, but it's just such a good feeling, "All of the thoughts that constantly run through your head, the ones you wish would go away most, what was once a never ending sea of things I could never forget is now just like a clear blue sky."

It takes a second for Shang to respond, "Does it always feel like that?"

Ping shakes his head, "That feeling only happens after a few days of eating almost nothing. Usually my thoughts never end; usually memories just keep playing over and over." He swallows as tears sting his eyes, "Sometimes I go back and think of what I could have done different, and then I picture how things would be now. Sometimes I think of what will happen. Sometimes— Sometimes I think of how things would be if things had been different."

Shang sees Ping wipe a tear away with his sleeve, "What are you thinking of now?"

"Not much." There's brief silence, "I just keep seeing this picture, a picture of a better life, and it's just hard sometimes. To know that I will never have what I want most, it's just hard."

Shang sits on the edge of the bed, "This perfect life of yours, what's it like?"

"Nothing's perfect, Shang." Ping almost smiles, but as he does so water intrudes his eyes again, "In this world, I am my father's son. There's not much more to it. Sometimes I just picture what could have been, what with sparring and actual schooling. It would have been nice to have a life where the things I do, such as riding or sword practice, would have had my parents thrilled with the accomplishments instead of them being disapproving and disappointed."

"Is that all you want, for your parents to appreciate your skills and accomplishments?"

"No, Shang," Ping complains nearly in tears and with frustration. "It would also be nice if I didn't have to bind my chest every day, if I didn't have to fear anything to happen. It would be nice to have a lower voice, to be stronger or taller, and to actually have friends."

Shang comments, "You have friends." unsure how to respond to any of the other issues.

"How do we know?" Ping asks in a hurt tone. "They know almost nothing about me, and I'm sure with all the stories that they've told me that they must feel rather betrayed right now." Ping doesn't respond, so he looks back towards the floor, "Besides. What's the use in having friends if you're living a lie? Because if I do portray the perfect daughter then I'm just pretending to be someone else, but if they treat me as they've always treated me then I have no backstory or truth to tell them."

Shang feels an emptiness in his stomach and looks towards the door, "Why don't we go downstairs, so I can have something?"

Ping looks at him in disbelief, his eyes still slightly red from the tears, "I'm not watching you eat again, Shang."

Shang gives a contemplating look, "But you must be thirsty. Come down for some water." He sees the water-skin behind Ping and continues, "Or tea. This place is so much better than that other place we stayed. You should at least try some tea."

"Well, I do have to use the trench." Ping gives up with a stress-relieving breath, "How about I meet you at the table afterwards?"

"Sounds good." Shang takes a moment to stride a thumb across the redness of Pings face, but it's dry as no tears are left, so he stands and gives him a kiss on the forehead before he turns to leave.

* * *

After using the trench Ping returns inside. The place is more crowed than he would like. _It's hard to keep a secret in front of so many people._ An image flashes, one of the hundreds of soldiers lined up and put into rows. He also remembers the cliff, on which he had peered through the bushes to see more tents than he could ever count.

He glimpses Shang as a large man moves out of the way, but after a moment more people move and the picture is seen more clearly; someone else is sitting with him. It's a man, only slightly taller than himself, but he appears stronger and happier. Ping feels his thumb and third finger nearly touch around his arm, a grip he holds in insecurity, but also a grip that reminds him how inadequate and weak he truly is. Looking back at the man, he can't help but find himself jealous, and when Shang peers up from his drink with a wide smile Ping takes an uneasy breath, striding quickly towards the table.

Shang looks at Ping, "Oh. Hey." who now stands very close to the table. "Laquan, this is the solder I was telling you about. Ping, this is Han Laquan, an old friend of mine. I hope you don't mind; I asked him to join us."

"An old friend, huh?"

Shang laughs the tension off awkwardly, as he looks back to the new man, "Forgive him. He grew up on a farm, very little social interaction with so much work as an only child."

It takes a second for Ping to respond, "Actually, General, I do have a sister."

Shang forces a smile, "Yes, Ping, but with her being a girl it's unlikely she would work the farm very often, not when your family has a son to do the work instead."

Ping's mouth opens a little, "Right. You are correct; she didn't work the farm as often as I did, because she wasn't allowed to." He pauses for a moment, "I just felt the need to explain that although I didn't have any brothers to help with the farm, I do have a sister so in that fact I'm not an only child."

Laquan nods. Shang had been plucking the chicken from his rice, but finishing the last piece he continues to explain, "Laquan is a magistrate from a village near mine. My brother and I would be given lessons with him by his father, whenever our father had to leave for soldier training or war." He gives Ping a look, "His family has been very loyal to mine, and he has made for a good friend."

Ping fakes a smile and nods, "It's nice to meet you." _But why does he have to be here, and now?_

Shang sees that Laquan knows Ping didn't mean the words, but his friend still says, "It's nice to meet you too." albeit without the smile.

There's a minute before Shang comments, "Maybe you would like to sit down?"

Ping sits as instructed, and after he does a blond girl in hemp rags come to place a plate of dumplings in front of Laquan. He sees a few scars over her with a red hand mark on the wrist she had used to place the meal. His stare must have made her feel bad, because after one glace she turns to leave; however, Laquan tells her to wait and turns to Ping, "What do you want?"

"Um." He turns away from Shang's friend and tells the slave, "Tea. Anything except camellia." She nods before leaving, and it's quiet before Shang speaks.

"That hair was so weird. It sticks out like a sore thumb."

Laquan softly smiles, "Yeah. It does." before he turns to Ping. "Are you sure you don't want anything else? You haven't eaten yet, have you? I was under the impression we were all having dinner together."

Ping stares down at the dark table, "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? It's not too late to get something else, or if you're not that hungry you could take one of my dumplings. There's plenty here."

"I said I'm fine."

Shang sees Laquan about to speak again, so he interrupts, "Ping doesn't eat."

His friend gives a confused look, "What do you mean, doesn't eat?"

Shang seems to have a hard time finding the words, so Ping answers instead, "It's not a big deal. I eat, just not as often as others."

Ping watches as Laquan seems to look over him in worry. "Why?"

He tries to shrug off the tension, but instead he takes a deep, short breath as he leans back into the chair, "It's nothing really. It's just—" He pauses and gulps, but he makes sure he doesn't cry and tries to smile, "Growing up, I didn't really develop right. The more meat I have on my bones, the more disproportionate and weird I seem to appear."

Laquan almost laughs, "It can't be that bad."

Ping's smile fades, "Well, my parents always say I looked fine like that." He pauses as a range and sadness fills him, "But they're my parents; they don't see what I see, they don't understand the way I think or the things I've gone through." He laughs, "But, of course, they think they know everything: all of my thoughts, all of my behaviors, all of my reasons. They think they know everything."

The blue-eyed slave from before sets a glass of jasmine tea in front of Ping, and he comments, "How about some baijiu to go with this."

"No," Shang immediately responds, even louder than Ping had been complaining, but neither was loud enough, yet, to get too many looks. He looks at the slave and says, "You can go." before his soldier has a chance to respond.

Ping gapes as he watches his chance to drown the thoughts walk away, but then he turns back to Shang, "What was that for?" He hears the pitch in his voice and pretends to clear his throat before continuing in his usual lowest pitch, "It's not like I haven't drank before. You don't have to prevent me from doing it now, just because you promised my father I would be safe."

Shang takes a frustrated breath, "Look. It's not about that. I'm not doing this for your father. I'm doing it for you." He sees Ping hold the safe expression of disbelief, the kind of expression he holds when he's gathering information. _He's said that if you stay quiet long enough people soon show their true colors, by letting them talk all of their dumb thoughts and offensive words are shown._ "I've known you for a while now." He sees Ping look down again, "You were once my best soldier, and I know that if you drink when you don't eat, you don't feel well after."

Ping whispers, "Sometimes pain is a good thing; it makes for a good distraction, and sometimes the mind is much crueler than any affect you could get from a single drink." There is silence as he finishes his tea, "I'm going to go to bed."

Shang looks at Ping, only wishing he could do something to show he cares, something to make him stay; however, the only things he can think of, a kiss or to stand in front of him and his exit, would earn nothing but stares. He glances quickly at his friend, realizing it would also earn an explanation, before he looks back at a standing Ping, "I'll talk to you later."

"Do what you will."

Laquan watches as Shang stares at Ping's leaving, before Shang looks back and he asks, "Be honest, is he really a soldier?"

Shang gives him a look mixed of confusion and offense, "Of course, he is. Why?"

"Just checking." He finishes a dumpling, "He seemed a little too scrawny to me."

Shang contemplates for a moment but feels the need to state, "Ping isn't just uncomfortable with disproportion. He's also insecure about his muscle and stature, so don't bring it up again."

Laquan sees the seriousness in Shang's expression, so although he has more questions, he only says, "Okay."

"I mean it. If he could, he would be as strong and fit as either of us, and I don't think you realize what a toll all of this does on his self-esteem. You can't bring it up again: not when he's around, not when the comments could make things worse."

His friend reluctantly asks, "What do you mean by worse?"

Shang takes a deep, calming breath, "He exercises a lot, thinking it will help build muscle, but with his lack of food intake it does anything but help." He takes a second to think, "I was able to help him through it in the army, and I know how to handle the situation now." He looks up in desperation, "You can't make things worse. I probably could have convinced him to eat something tomorrow, but between your comments and criticisms… I'm not sure if I could now."

"I'm sorry. I didn't think— Is that a part of the whole keeping safe agreement with his father?" Shang only nods. "I'm sorry. I really hope I didn't ruin anything."

"It's more serious than you think, and it's not something you can undo with an apology." He sees the last two dumplings which lay on Laquan's plate, "But for the sake of friendship, I might feel a little better about things if your apology included the rest of what you got there."

His friend looks down at the remainder of his meal, before he smiles and pushes it towards Shang, "It's all yours."

* * *

\- Hey! He was trying to confide in you. What? You had to go eat there and then? You couldn't have waited just ten more minutes?... Gluttonous parasite.


	73. Unfinished Chapter

**July 11th (Day 16, After Sunset)**

Yong stands in the kitchen, taking small sips from his glass of water. He thinks he remembers something, but he's not completely sure. _It could have been a dream._ He finishes the glass and refills it, and although he gets a few looks from the servants nothing is said. This wasn't the first time he's drank water in the almost noiseless kitchen; the clank of dishes may hurt his ears, but it's nothing compared to the complaints and deep conversions which usually take place in the family dining room.

Yong places a few fingers to his temple, as a ceramic bowl crashes to the floor. The gardener's youngest son lays the vegetables he had brought in onto the table, as the maid cleans up the mess he had made. Yong is given a horrified look by the gardener, whom appears to expect some form of punishment, but Yong doesn't care.

He knows what this is, it's dehydration; it's from having more baijiu than water the previous night. _The walk to the market couldn't have helped._ He finishes his glass, walks past the young gardener, and heads toward his brother's study. He stands there in a moment of thought, before he knocks on the wall next to the sheet-door.

"Yong. Is that you?"

Yong moves the sheet aside, "Are you busy?"

"Nothing that can't wait." He gestures to the other chair, "How about you sit down."

Yong looks at the chair for a moment, but he doesn't feel like sitting down quite yet. _I can't._ "I was just wondering, did you talk to me earlier? You know, when I was asleep."

"I came to tell you lunch was available."

"Did I say anything?"

Li Fu notices a glimmer of fear in his youngest brother's eyes, but the paranoid stature shows there would be no relief in knowing aspects of his secrets have been revealed. _Even if it is only to family._ "It seemed like you were having a nightmare. You didn't want to be abandoned."

"Right." Yong feels himself calm down a little, "So, I didn't give specifics?"

The older brother pauses for a moment, "Your sentences made little sense. Even if you had given specifics, it would have been hard to interpret."

"Okay." _But he's good at interpreting things._ "So, I didn't say anything stupid or anything?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know." _Like killing my boyfriend, maybe._ "It's just— my dreams can be really intense. Sometimes they contain the best and worst scenarios possible." He pauses and tries to shrug off the dream, "Sometimes in them I do things I shouldn't even think."

"Don't worry. Nothing you say could ever change my perspective of you."

Yong nearly laughs in annoyance, "That's not what I asked."

"No, but was that not your concern?"

"Maybe." Yong looks away as he takes a stress-relieving breath, but his paranoia won't let him relax, "What is your perspective of me?"

Yong's thoughts race through the worse of possibilities, as it takes a moment for his brother to respond. "You are a smart and talented young man who has gone through a lot."

The younger brother lets out a long breath, "Well, that would be accurate."

There's silence for a minute, before Li Fu asks, "Is that all?"

"Yeah. I suppose so." He turns to leave, but he can't help but turn back to clarify things, "But now that you know how chaotic my dreams are, you know now not to pay attention to what I say when I'm asleep."

"Everyone gets weird dreams. I know well enough to take those with a grain of salt."

Yong nods, "Okay." before he leaves.

* * *

Shang

* * *

\- I don't remember what I was going to do with Shang in that second part. All I know is that for now I'm moving on from this fic. Don't worry. I'll most likely return, but in case it takes a while again I just wanted to make sure I didn't withhold anything from you guys again. So, yeah. I am going to start posting chapters to a new fanfic I got inspired to write last month. I was originally going to plan to post it when it was fully completed, as I have a bad history with completing these fics, but when I mentioned it on the app 'whisper' along with a couple people who sent me private messages on this site, they just seemed so excited for it. So, yeah. If anyone has seen the Disney Descendants movie and if you like my writing, then take a look at it.

\- I'm sorry to disappoint anyone who just really wanted me to get this fic done, but I really wasn't getting into it. Even the plots I liked the most seemed to have had me not as interested in it as I'd like to have been... maybe it's just the long, descriptive paragraphs or something. I don't know, but when I started writing this new fic I could have sworn there weren't nearly as many non-dialogue paragraphs to follow.


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